Longing Days and Cozy Nights
by Lenni George
Summary: A modern day love story - featuring Mac Taylor. Mac/OC
1. Under The Milky Way

"_**And it's something quite peculiar,  
Something that's shimmering and white.  
Leads you here despite your destination,  
Under the milky way tonight…" The Church**_

She had a hell of a voice. That was the first thing Mac Taylor noticed about Sarah O'Neill, or at least that's what he told her. The first thing he really noticed about her was her long legs and curves that were real, not surgically enhanced. After a moment or two, he noticed that she had full curly black hair and big brown eyes. It only took him another week to discover her easy laugh and dry sense of humor.

She'd walked into Cozy's shortly after the New Year, sitting through the first two sets of open jam night before nervously asking if she could sing during the next set. Tico, who'd pretty much been running the show for years, nodded, asked her what she wanted to sing and let her lead off the next set.

It took her a few moments to relax and come into her own, but halfway through Bonnie Raitt's "I Can't Make You Love Me", her rich alto voice came through. She blushed brightly when she drew a strong round of applause. Since then, she'd pretty much been a fixture on Wednesday nights, singing, or playing piano when Rudy took a break or couldn't make it.

They'd struck up an easy friendship between sets, part respect, part teasing, it just flowed. She was open, honest and really easy to talk to, something he discovered early on in their friendship.

He'd learned that she was a widow with two children, both of whom were away at college. Her husband, Danny, had been a stock broker, who joined the Air National Guard after 9/11. He'd been killed in a helicopter crash over Afghanistan in 2003. Mac was touched by the way her eyes filled with tears when she talked about it.

He was even more touched by the way her eyes filled with tears when he told her about Claire later that same night. He'd always felt strange telling people that he was a widower, always felt uncomfortable talking about Claire's death, but not this time. Sarah seemed to understand.

Sure, he'd noticed that she was attractive right away, but he never thought anything would ever come out of the flirting and double entendres. He was seeing Peyton and he wouldn't dream of jeopardizing that relationship. So they stuck to talking between sets and occasionally staying for a beer after they were done.

His relationship with Peyton ended when she decided to remain in England. For a while, he tried to make himself believe she'd be back. Until of course, he got her letter. Looking back, he'd known in his gut that things were over but was waiting for her to admit it. Once she had, he moved on with his life, or tried to, at least. He didn't go out much, except for Wednesday nights.

He found himself looking forward to Wednesday not just for the relaxation that playing in the band provided him, but also, to spend time with Sarah. Their chats between sets turned into deeper conversation and some nights, after stepping off the stage, they would sit at the bar and talk until the house lights came up.

He couldn't deny that his attraction for her grew more with each passing week. But still, neither of them made a move towards anything romantic. Truthfully, he was afraid to ruin what they had. So, they kept things restricted to Wednesday nights.

Until, one Friday night, about a month after Peyton's letter arrived. It had been an insanely busy week. Unable to unwind, he found himself restlessly pacing the length of his apartment at 8 o'clock. He decided to stop by Cozy's and see what was going on, as there was usually a decent band playing on Friday nights.

That week's band seemed to play only songs from the 90's. They were fairly decent musicians, but their choice of music was not really of his taste. As he finished his first beer and debated whether or not to stay for another, he was pleasantly surprised to find Sarah walking in the door. Spotting him, she walked over with a broad smile on her face. She joined him at the bar and there they remained for the rest of the night.

Well, not quite the rest of the night. The clock behind the bar read midnight when he kissed her the first time, or at least that's what she told him. He wasn't paying attention to the clock as they slow danced to a decent rendition of "Under the Milky Way" by The Church. She loved the song, he could barely recall it.

But then again, he wasn't really paying attention to the band, either. The only thing he could concentrate on was how good it felt to hold her in his arms, how much he loved the smell of her perfume, and how he knew that if he didn't kiss her at that moment, he never would.

So he took the chance and, forcing back the thought that he may be overstepping the boundaries of their friendship, he gave her a kiss. When she returned the kiss, he ceased caring about the boundaries, the time, or anything beyond the brunette he held in his arms.

They broke it off and pulled back slightly. Even in the dim light of the dance floor, he could see the color rise in her cheeks and the sparkle in her dark brown eyes. With a nervous smile, she admitted that she'd wanted him to kiss her for a long time. He told her that had he known this, he would have kissed her sooner. This apparently tickled her and she kissed him again.

The song had stopped playing, but they remained on the dance floor, still wrapped in each other's arms, still held in the romantic glow of a first kiss. He couldn't recall what song the band played next, but it was faster, not a song to slow dance to, and he suggested they return to the bar. To his surprise, she suggested they go "somewhere less public", as she would really like to continue what they started on the dance floor. After settling their bar tab, he walked her outside and hailed a cab.

As the cab crawled through the city to her Gramercy Park apartment, they sat close, his arm around her shoulder, sharing an occasional smile or soft kiss. He could feel the heat of her body through their clothes and wanted like hell to feel that warm body against his, but he held fast, keeping himself in check.

Sarah O'Neill was not just a pick up lay. Despite the myth of celibacy that the NYPD rumor mill seemed to embrace almost as dearly as they embraced the rumor of his pairing with Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor was neither a monk nor Stella's lover. Since Claire's death, he had one serious relationship that ended badly and a scattered number of one night stands.

The one night stands served a single purpose – physical release. For all of his restraint and fortitude, sometimes, he just needed to "get laid". He didn't know what women saw in him. He'd always tried to keep himself in shape and he guessed it worked, because when he actually felt like picking up, he still could.

But, his mind repeated, Sarah O'Neill was not just a pick up lay and tonight, would not be a cab ride full of soft core porn, leading to some mindless, but mind blowing, sex when they got to her place. Sure, he wanted her body, but not to the exclusion of their friendship.

His mental ramblings were interrupted when they arrived at her apartment. He paid the cabbie than followed her into the brick building. She smiled at him as they walked into the elevator and reached out and took his hand, then pushed the "5" button.

As the door shut, he pulled her into his arms, "Are you sure you want me to come up?" he asked.

"Changing your mind?" she asked, eyes twinkling in a playful challenge.

He leaned in and kissed her, "Not for a moment."

"Good," she replied, "Because I don't usually invite guys back to my place…"

XXXXX

She'd excused herself into the kitchen to fetch them drinks, leaving him alone in her comfortable living room

Mac smiled, noticing the abundance of framed pictures through out the room. She'd previously shown him pictures of her children, Danny Jr and Madyson, so he recognized them instantly.

His attention was drawn to the tall, dark haired man who seemed to be in most of the older shots, then suddenly ceased to appear. This, he reasoned, must have been Sarah's husband. He scanned the older shots again and his suspicions were confirmed the shot of a Sarah looking beautiful in white wedding gown holding hands and gazing into the eyes of the dark haired man, who wore a black tux.

Through all of the shots, they appeared very happy and very much in love. Mac felt a familiar feeling of loss when he looked at the later shots. He knew the pain of losing a spouse and it saddened him to see visual proof that Sarah had experienced that pain as well.

"Okay," she said, walking into the living room, "I hope you don't mind Jamison's."

He turned to find her holding two tumblers full of amber liquid, "Jamison's is great, thanks." He took one of the tumblers from her outstretched hand, "I was checking out your pictures."

"I'm one of those people," she blushed, "Or at least I was. With the kids off at school, I'd only be taking pictures of myself."

"That might not be such a bad thing."

This drew a smile from her. "And just who would want pictures of me?"

Taking a sip of whiskey, he shrugged. "Somebody who only gets to see you one night a week."

As Sarah took a moment to digest his statement, he could see doubt warring with pleasure in her eyes. When she spoke, her tone was light, "Do you happen to know anybody like that?"

Reaching out with his free hand, he pulled her close. "As a matter of fact, I do," he said with a smile of his own.

"You'd want a picture of me?" Sarah blushed.

His honest words surprised them both. "I'd rather see you more often."

"You would?"

"Don't look so surprised."

"I guess I am surprised," she admitted, taking a sip of whiskey before she continued. "I expected a few things could come out of inviting you home tonight, but that wasn't one of them."

"And why not?"

She shrugged. "I thought you weren't interested in a relationship. That maybe it was too soon after…"

"So you thought I was just coming home with you…" he prompted.

"I wasn't really thinking. Once you held me in your arms, my thoughts were kinda derailed."

"Yours too, huh?" he softly laughed, setting his glass on the book shelf then taking hers and doing the same thing.

"And when you kissed me," she breathed, leaning close, her lips brushing his. "I could only think of you doing it again."

He captured her lips with his, holding her body close and losing himself in the sensations she stirred within him.

At some point, they'd made their way to the overstuffed sofa, although, he couldn't recall actually doing it. He'd already given into the taste of her lips, the feel of her soft skin and the sounds of her breathing.

His hands explored her very willing body, slipping beneath clothing, loosening and removing the pieces that were in the way until he had access to more and more of her. It wasn't until the chill of the room hit the naked skin of his chest that he realized she was just as busy with his clothing.

She leaned over him, her dark curls falling around them like a curtain and kissed him, then in a voice that was raw and sure, she said, "Let's move this back to the bedroom."

"Are you sure?" he asked, although the desire in her dark eyes told him she was very sure.

She nodded, "I've been sure since the first time you kissed me."

He knew he should say something, but nothing profound would come, so instead, he took her face in his hands, pulled her close and kissed her. He hoped the kiss would convey what his words could not.

"Come on," she smiled, standing up and holding out her hand, "Let's go to bed."


	2. I Finally Found Someone

**_"We started out as friends  
It's funny how from simple things  
The best things begin"- Bryan Adams_**

He could really play the bass. That was the first thing Sarah O'Neill noticed about Mac Taylor, or at least that's what she told him. The first thing she really noticed was his hands. They were strong and they worked the bass with a reverence and respect of a true musician.

When she allowed herself to take in the full picture, she was struck by his eyes. Despite the relaxed, almost casual stance that he and countless other bass players adopted, his eyes held a burning intensity that she found fascinating and sexy as all hell.

Looking back, she was taken with him from the moment they met. Once she got to know him, she found that he was well read, had a sense of honor, and a dry, wicked sense of humor. Add to this the fact that he was really good looking and kept himself in decent shape and he darn well could have been "Mr. Right".

Unfortunately, he was involved with someone at the time and Sarah decided she would be content just to be friends with him. It wasn't until some time after Mac's relationship ended that they moved beyond friendship into a serious flirtation that took place on Wednesday nights only.

Until a cool, crisp early fall Friday night, that found them both at Cozy's. They sat together, sharing a couple of drinks and listening to the band. It was relaxed, comfortable, light, and fun. Without realizing what they were doing, they took their tentative mating dance to the next level.

They talked, laughed, drank and even slow danced. There was more flirting, more touching, and then, somewhere around midnight, as they moved on the dance floor, he kissed her.

That one simple act opened up the flood gates of long suppressed passion and their night moved quickly from the dance floor to her bed. He was, despite the situation, a total gentleman. Before they gave into their desire, he declared his intentions, telling her that he'd like to see her again, to spend more time with her. It was kind, thoughtful, honest, and totally unnecessary. By that point in the evening, she would have slept with him no matter what his intent was.

They spent most of the weekend together, a good part of it wrapped in each other's arms in her queen sized bed. She was surprised at the ease with which they talked while they lay together. They were comfortable around each other, relaxed, and as out of character as it was for both of them, they chose to ignore the outside world and focus on each other.

And of course, there was the sex. It just seemed to flow, like their conversation. She felt at ease with him and where they didn't do anything too "out of the norm", the very fact that she spent the entire weekend in bed with a man other than Danny was enough to surprise her.

In the two weeks since that Friday night, they'd made sure to find time to spend together. If they couldn't get together, they would talk and email through out the day. She hated to admit it, but she was falling hard for the bass playing detective.

On the Friday night before Halloween, they'd made plans to have dinner at Candela. Apparently, one of Mac's coworkers had told him about the romantic ambiance and delicious food. He'd managed to get 7:30 reservations by calling a week ahead.

But, when Friday arrived, he was knee deep in a frustrating case. She knew by the tone of his voice on Friday morning, that he would probably be pulling an all-nighter. As the day went on, she formulated a back up plan, sensing they would have to cancel their reservations.

It turned out that both of them got stuck at the office, he with his frustrating evidence and she with last minute telephone calls. When he called her at 5, he was very apologetic. He felt terrible for standing her up but promised he'd make it up to her.

She took it in stride, telling him that she was stuck at work too and that he could definitely make it up to her. Then, she put Plan B into action. Finishing up what she could on her desk, she made a break from the office around 7, picked up food from her favorite deli and caught a cab to the Crime Lab.

She didn't take into account that actually getting in to see him could potentially ruin the surprise. With good reason, you couldn't just stroll in through the front doors of NYPD and walk up to the Crime Lab. No, you needed to be approved by someone in the Department.

Therein lay her problem. If she had them call up to him, he'd have to get up from his work and come down stairs. She didn't want to disrupt his entire night, she just wanted to sneak in and bring him some dinner.

As she tried to reason with the Desk Sergeant, an older woman named Gloria Duncan, she felt her Plan slipping into futility. Until, that is, Stella Bonasera happened to walk by.

She overheard Sarah's attempt to talk her way upstairs. Sarah assumed that Mac had told Stella about his new relationship, because Stella seemed to know all about her.

With a conspiratorial smile, the beautiful Greek detective signed Sarah in, got her a guest badge and escorted her up to the Lab. Sarah found herself instantly liking the woman and when Stella left her down the hall from Mac's office, she made Sarah promise to get together for coffee some day. Sarah hoped that she really meant it.

She was surprised at how nervous she was as she walked the hallway to Mac's glass walled office. Taking a deep calming breath, she stopped, just out of his line of site, watching him as he worked. He was studying documents on his desk, his gaze moving around from page to page, scrutinizing the details before him. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and frustration was etched on his features.

So, she thought with a smile, this was the "workaholic Mac Taylor" he'd warned her about. He certainly did have a different look than the Mac who played bass, or the Mac who she woke to find smiling at her, despite the fact that he hadn't slept much himself. She found this Mac as attractive as all of the others, but knew he would be infinitely more challenging to deal with.

She momentarily wondered if he'd be glad to see her or feel as if her presence was an intrusion. Deciding it was too late to turn back; she made her way to his office and knocked on the door.

XXXXX

Mac Taylor was frustrated. Tired and frustrated. They'd spent the better part of a week working on the case of a Jesuit Priest who'd been murdered while visiting the city with a fellow cleric. The early evidence pointed at the fellow cleric killing the Jesuit, but the further they dug, the more the evidence pointed away from him.

The fact that they had not yet solved the crime was not sitting well with the Archdiocese. They were rattling the Mayor's cage, who in turn rattled the cage of the Chief of Detectives, who, in turn was rattling Mac's cage with a 500 pound sledge hammer.

Mac knew they were missing something, just one piece of evidence, just one simple thing that could tie this all together and show them who their suspect was. But he'd be damned if he could see it.

Stella had already told him that he needed to step away. She'd told him to go home and get some rest, but he ignored her. He usually did when he was wrapped up in a case like this.

Even Sarah had offered to take him to dinner then return him to the lab. He'd turned her down as well. It had been hard to do, with the comfort of her arms calling to him like a siren song. But, he didn't want to give himself that comfort, not yet. So he threw himself into the work before him, shutting out thoughts of everything but the murdered Jesuit.

Hearing a knock at the door, he barked, "Come in!"

He didn't look up at the sound of the door opening. Nor did the sound of heels clicking across the tile floor pull his attention from the crime scene photos. What pulled his attention was the scent of perfume that wafted past his nose.

The smell was familiar, but out of place here at the lab. He'd grown familiar with the scent of Stella's Burberry perfume and with the Body by Victoria that Lindsey wore. This perfume wasn't either, but he knew it. It took him a moment to place it, but when he did, a smile crossed his features.

It was Calvin Klein's Eternity and only one woman he knew wore that. Looking up with a smile, he said, "Sarah…"

"I was wondering when you'd notice me," she smiled.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, standing up.

"Since work kept us from Candela, I thought I'd bring you dinner."

"Dinner, huh?" he asked, looking at the large brown bag. "I hadn't even thought of it."

"I figured you hadn't. So I stopped by Katz's Deli near my office," she explained, as he took her in to his arms, "It's certainly not gourmet dining, but they do have the best turkey clubs in the city."

He kissed her fully, then pulled back and took a good look at her. She was wearing a black wool skirt suit over a white button front shirt. She looked very professional, very businesslike, and very, very sexy.

"You're leering at me," she laughed.

"I don't leer," he countered, "And you look amazing."

As they stepped apart, she rolled her eyes, "Mac, I've been in this suit since 7 am. I look wrinkled."

He shook his head, "I like it."

"The lack of food must be messing with your vision," she blushed. "Come on; let's eat, so I can let you get back to work."

"How'd you get past the front desk?" he asked, as they sat on the sofa.

As she unpacked the bag, Sarah explained, "Stella saved the day. She walked into the lobby as I was trying to talk my way up here and must have overheard me." As she handed him a sandwich wrapped in wax paper, she fixed him with a faux glare, "So, you've told your work wife about me?"

"I have," he returned with an easy smile. "We've known each other for a long time and she picked up on what she called my "change in outlook". She wanted to know what happened."

"And you told her," she nodded, handing him a can of Coke.

"And I told her," he replied, popping open his can.

"She was very nice, friendly," Sarah said, then, "Pretty. I can see why people would think that you two were more than friends."

He picked up a trace of doubt in her voice, "Sarah, you aren't worried…"

She shook her head, "I'm not worried."

Her smile told him that there was a lingering trace of doubt, but she was trying not to dwell on it and that, he decided, would just not do. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly.

"Stella and I are friends," he firmly said. "That's all. I am only capable of being romantically involved with one woman at a time." He watched as the doubt left her eyes and a blush crept up.

"You must think I'm a fool…"

"I think," he said, kissing her hand again, "That I'm the luckiest guy in Manhattan."

"And why would that be?" she laughed.

"Because I have found a beautiful, kind, caring, sexy woman, who actually likes me enough to show up with dinner on a night when I stood her up," he concluded.

"I don't know about all of that," she blushed, "Eat your sandwich so I can let you get back to work."

They ate their dinner in a comfortable silence. The sandwich was delicious, but what Mac truly enjoyed was the company. When they finished eating, he stood and gathered the trash, then threw it in the can near his desk. Turning back, he found her standing and picking up her brief case.

"You're leaving?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound disappointed.

"You need to finish up here," she said, stepping closer to him, "I've already distracted you enough for one night."

"It was a welcome distraction," he countered, pulling her into his arms again.

"But a distraction all the same," she kissed him softly, "I'll tell you what…finish up here, then come by my place."

"It may be late," he cautioned, leaning in for another kiss.

"Then you can just stay til morning," she returned, kissing him. It was a deep, hungry kiss full of promises that he knew she'd keep. Pulling back slowly, she smiled, "I'll be waiting."

He pulled her close and kissed her again, then let her go. "I need to let you go."

"Yeah, you do," she said, glancing at the glass walls with a giggle, "Or we'll be putting on a show for your whole lab."

He nodded, "Come on, I'll walk you to the elevator."

"Come see me tonight, okay?" she asked, as they walked down the hall.

"We'll see," he said, pressing the down button.

"I'll wait up," she winked, as the door opened. She kissed him again, then stepped into the elevator. "See you later."

"See ya," he replied, as the door shut. He stood, realizing that he probably had a stupid grin on his face and hoping that, should anyone walk by, the stupid grin would distract their attention from the raging hard on he'd been sporting since that damn kiss back in his office.

Chuckling to himself, he turned to walk back down the hall, only to find Stella walking to him, with a knowing smile.

"And how much did you see?"

"Enough," she winked.

"Enough?"

"Enough to know you need to go catch up to her," she went on.

"I've got work to do here," he dismissed, but Stella wouldn't have it.

"You're distracted now," she went on, "Go…come back in the morning."

"But…"

"No buts, Mac," she laughed, "You're not going to be able to concentrate with all of the blood in your body rushing below the belt."

"Stella," he replied, embarrassed that she'd noticed.

"Relax, Mac," she dismissed, "I've never seen you like this and honestly, I think it's great. Go on, the pile of evidence will be here in the morning when you return. Spend the night not thinking about it."

"I…"

"I'll meet you here in the morning."

He finally gave in and with a wink said, "I'll bring the coffee.


	3. Witchcraft

"_**Those fingers in my hair  
That sly come hither stare  
That strips my conscience bare  
Its witchcraft" – Frank Sinatra**_

Mac stood on the stage tuning his bass watching as the club started to fill up. The fact that it was Halloween night contributed to the larger than normal turn out. There was even a costume contest going on and first prize was $1000. That drew all sorts of costumed characters who normally didn't come out on a Wednesday night.

Halloween wasn't something Mac Taylor enjoyed. He supposed it came from too many years as a cop, but even before that, he just didn't really get into it. Claire tried to drag him out to Halloween parties, but he always managed to adjust his duty schedule in such a way so that he worked that night.

This year, he didn't try to reschedule. Although, he decided that since he was in the band, he was excused from wearing a costume. Hell, on some levels, he supposed that being in the band **was** his costume. When Tico walked up on stage in his usual white shirt and black pants, he smiled. Tico didn't do the costume thing either.

Rudy, the keyboard player, showed up dressed as a vampire, complete with fake fangs and blood dripping and Joe, the guitarist, showed up dressed as a hippie. Something told Mac, it neither costume was much of a stretch.

He wondered if Sarah would dress up. She'd mentioned to him that she might, depending on whether or not she could get home in time to change her clothes. When he'd talked to her at 4, she thought she'd be coming straight from the office.

"Well, well," Tico said, looking over Mac's shoulder, "There's one sexy little witch coming this way."

Curious, Mac followed his gaze, catching Sarah as she took off her leather coat. A sloe smile crossed his features as he took in her costume. She wore a low cut black dress with a pair of impossibly pointy black stiletto heeled pumps, that on its own was enough to make him sit back and take notice, but she'd also donned a tall black witch's hat trimmed in purple feathers, a black cape, and a necklace with a black bat with glowing purple eyes. It was understated, but sexy as all hell and it was very much Sarah's style.

"Mac, I'm tellin' ya, if you weren't datin' her," Tico teased, stepping behind the drum kit.

"Yeah, well," Mac shrugged, with a good natured chuckle.

"Stop starin' at me, Tico!" Sarah admonished, stepping up onto the stage.

"Darlin', you are the sexiest witch I've ever seen," Tico said, "I can't help it!"

"Sexy? Me? Puh-leese!" she rolled her eyes.

"I don't know," Rudy piped up, "I'm diggin' the cape…"

"If I'd have known you guys were gonna react like this," she laughed, "I'd have dressed like this a long time ago." She turned to find Mac watching her with a smile. "And what about you, Detective Taylor? I'm sure you have a comment…"

"I do," he nodded, his tone casual, "But I'll save them for later."

She knew it was cliché, but something about the look in his eyes sent a chill down her spine. Despite the relaxed exterior, she could see the way her outfit affected him and it thrilled her. They'd been seeing each other for a few weeks now and despite her efforts to take things slow, she had fallen head over heels for the sexy detective.

"I bet you will," she smiled, with a toss of her dark hair and a fake evil laugh

"Damn, woman," Rudy laughed, "You are feeding every one of my sick twisted fantasies right now…"

"Watch it, Rudy," she winked, "Or I'll get you and your little dog too!"

XXXXX

As they worked their way through the first set, Sarah played up the witch costume to the crowd's enjoyment. When Tico joined in with some off color comments, the crowd roared with laughter. They'd had a couple of requests for songs with a Halloween theme, so thanks to Tico's fake book, they were able to work in "Witchcraft", "Black Magic Woman", and a finally their own version of Screaming Jay Hawkins' "I Put a Spell On You".

Tico told Sarah to make it her own and that she did. She vamped it up, playing it off as a much sexier song that it was. The crowd loved it, judging by the cat calls, whistles, and the applause at the end. That's where they broke the set.

"Girl," Tico laughed, "You were smoking!"

"Thanks, Tico," she laughed with him, "I was afraid I was taking it too far."

"Hell no," he dismissed, "You were great!"

"You know what we should do next set?" she excitedly said, "That really funky version of Ring of Fire we did on my birthday."

"Perfect! We'll work that in…any other ideas?"

"Let's end the set with the Addams Family song," Rudy laughed.

"Works for me…" Tico nodded. "I'm gonna go get a beer. Anybody want one?"

"What I want," Mac said, setting his bass in its stand, "Is some fresh air."

"Hell yeah, it's like a thousand degrees in here," Sarah agreed, fanning her cape out to make a breeze.

"Uh huh," Rudy slyly said, "You two go get that…fresh air…" He gave them an exaggerated wink as he walked off the stage.

"Are we that transparent?" Mac asked as they walked through the club.

"To them, I guess we are," she shrugged, following him out the side door into the small alley. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the crisp fall air. As she released the breath, she opened her eyes and found Mac watching her. "What?"

"You do that every time we come out here," he replied, pulling her into his arms.

"I do," she nodded, "Is that a problem?"

He shook his head, pulling her closer. "None at all."

"Mac Taylor," she giggled, feeling his body's reaction to her touch. "You are just happy to see me, aren't you?"

"Always," he replied, kissing her fully. "But tonight…there's just something about that costume."

"You like it, huh?" she asked, as he kissed the side of her neck.

"I like what it does to you," he said, his lips brushing against her skin, as he worked his way to her neck.

"What it does to me?"

"You're more…playful, relaxed…" he stopped at the spot behind her ear that he knew would give her a chill, "And sexy as all hell."

A soft moan escaped her lips as he trailed his tongue over that spot. "Damn, what you do to me…"

"I'd say the feeling's mutual, Ms. O'Neill," he chuckled, pulling back and studying her face in the dim overhead light.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, leaning forward, her lips brushing his.

"I'm thinking, that it's a damn good thing we only promised two sets tonight," he gruffly said, kissing her fully. "Because any more than that and I would be having my way with you in this alley."

"Mmmm…." she returned, pulling back, "We're gonna have to do that some night….but not tonight…"

"No?" he asked, pulling back and looking at her.

She shook her head, "Nope, for two reasons. First, we need to get back inside…"

"And the second?"

"You haven't seen all of the costume…" she winked, slipping out of his arms and ducking back into the building.

XXXXX

"So," Sarah began, walking into Mac's apartment and taking off her coat. As usual, he hadn't left a light on, something that she always did before leaving her own home. "You liked my costume, did you?"

"I did," he said, stepping up behind her and slipping his arms around her. "If I remember correctly, you said there was more to it?"

"There is," she returned, tossing her hat onto the sofa. "You might want to turn the light on so you can see it…."

He let her go and turned on the end table lamp. She quickly slipped out of her coat and tossed it after her hat. Then, as he turned to face her, she reached back and unzipped her dress. She felt a bit nervous as she slipped the dress from her shoulders. She still didn't know what he found so attractive about her body. Hell, she was in her 40's and had given birth twice; she wasn't a model, not even close. But that didn't seem to make a difference to him at all.

As she slipped the dress off to reveal the black and orange lace bra that barely contained her breasts and the matching panties and garter belt that, thankfully, managed to cover what needed to be covered, the now familiar look of desire took over his features.

"Well?" she asked, dropping the dress to the floor and stepping out of it. "What do you think?"

Without a word, he reached out and pulled her into his arms, giving her a kiss that was so forceful it nearly took her breath away. "You," he began, "Have been torturing me all night."

"Have I now?" she purred, as he backed her down the hall towards the bedroom.

"You have," he returned, stopping long enough to give her another breathtaking kiss. "And I think it's time I returned the favor…"

"You're going to torture me?" she asked, a delicious chill running down her spine at the thought of just how he would torture her.

"I may just make you scream," he roughly said. Laying her down on the bed and leaning over her, he claimed her lips in another searing kiss.

XXXXX

Mac woke slowly and looked over at the alarm clock. It was 4:45 am. He was no stranger to seeing this time of the morning, either due to work or his omnipresent insomnia; he was as familiar with the middle of the night as he was with the middle of the day.

He was surprised that he'd actually slept for a couple of hours. Looking down at the brunette who slept with her head resting on his chest, he smiled, knowing that she was the reason he slept. He kissed the top of her head, resting his face in her dark curls for a moment.

"You leaving me already?" she mumbled, her lips brushing his chest.

"Not yet," he replied, running his hand along her back. "I've got a couple of minutes before I have to get up."

"You going running this morning?"

"Don't think so," he wryly said, "I got my work out last night."

"That was last night," she yawned, laying back onto the pillows and looking at him.

"Trust me," he winked, "It counts. We got quite a work out last night."

"Don't complain," she laughed, "You're the one who threatened to make me scream."

"And you're the one who tortured me all night long," he returned, rolling onto his side and pulling her closer. "Remember, you get what you give."

"Mmmm…" she smiled, running her hand along his chest, "Remind me to torture you more often."

"Wise ass," he laughed, kissing her forehead. "I should get up and go running."

She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight, "No way. You're mine until that alarm clock goes off."

"I'm yours longer than that," he returned, his tone a bit more serious. "I'm yours as long as you want me."

Sarah smiled at him, "Be careful what you promise, Mac. Because I believe I'm going to want you for a long, long time."


	4. Be Still My Beating Heart

"_**Restore my broken dreams  
Shattered like a falling glass  
I'm not ready to be broken just yet  
A lesson once learned is so hard to forget." Sting**_

Sarah O'Neill walked into her bedroom and stared dismally at the black dress that hung on her closet door. Her stomach rolled and her head swam. Sitting down hard on the bed, she sighed. This was not how the night was supposed to go.

After postponing their romantic dinner at Candela three weeks ago, Mac had managed to get reservations for 8pm that Friday evening. She'd been looking forward to it for days and even went out and bought a new dress that she knew would make him smile.

She should have said no when Darla and Susan asked her to go to Tortilla's for a late lunch. But she so loved their chicken tacos and despite her better judgment, went along and had two of the spicy tacos. Everything was fine until four o'clock when her stomach decided to revolt.

It had to be food poisoning, she decided, because if it was just the spices taking their toll on her stomach, she wouldn't have vomited six times in the past three hours. How could she get dressed, go out in public and actually try to eat dinner when she couldn't even hold down the water she swallowed brushing her teeth?

Hearing the knock on the door, Sarah walked slowly into the foyer. The room was spinning and she felt herself breaking out into a cold, clammy sweat. "Shit," she muttered, bracing herself against the closet door. After her head cleared, she pulled the door open to reveal Mac.

"Hey there," he said, his smile fading quickly, "You okay?"

"I think I have food poisoning," she sighed, as he walked into the door. "I started feeling sick after lunch and it's getting worse."

He placed his hand against her face, "You've got a fever," he decided, "Let's get you into bed."

"I'm sorry, Mac," she said, as he led her back into the bedroom, "We were going to go to Candela…"

"I can cancel the reservations," he dismissed, "And we'll go when you feel better."

"Oh, shit…" she gasped, then stumbled into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

He could hear the sound of her throwing up. He waited, listening for the sound to subside, once it had, and the toilet flushed, he knocked. "Sarah?"

"Yeah?" she tiredly said.

"You okay?"

"Um…yeah…"

"Can I come in?"

"You don't wanna see me like this," she cried.

He opened the door and looked in to find her sitting on the floor. She looked pale, tired, and weak. "Come on," he said, "Let me help you…"

"I have to brush my teeth…" she said.

"Okay," he stood behind her and held her steady while she brushed her teeth. Through the silk blouse she wore, he could feel the heat of her fever. "You're really burning up."

When she finished brushing her teeth, she set the brush back into the holder and looked in the mirror, "And I look like shit, too."

"Come on," he gently said, slipping his arm around her waist, "Can you walk?"

She nodded, causing the room to spin violently. Closing her eyes, she sighed, "Remind me not to do that again."

Mac walked her into the bedroom and sat her on the edge of the bed, "Lay back…" he coaxed. Once she had, he pulled up the sheet. "Do you have a bucket?"

"Kitchen," she said, eyes closed tightly, willing the room to stop spinning.

He walked out of the room and returned a moment later with a plastic bucket. "If you feel sick…" he said, setting the bucket next to the bed. "It's here. I'll be right back."

She could hear him walking out of the room, but was afraid to open her eyes. She'd managed to work the spinning down to only a slight imbalance and knew that opening her eyes would negate all of her hard work.

A moment later, she heard Mac walk back into the room, and then, she felt the most wonderful feeling as he laid a cool wet cloth on her forehead.

"You are too good to me," she said, tears coming to her eyes. "You don't have to stay here, you know."

"Do you really think I'd leave you like this?" he softly said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"It's still early," she mumbled, "Go get yourself some dinner…do something…"

"I'm not leaving you," he insisted, taking off his suit coat and loosening his tie.

"You need dinner," she protested.

"I'll wait until you're sleeping and raid your refrigerator," he said with a smile, laying the coat and tie on her dresser.

"Oh, shit," she said, leaning over the bed and grabbing the bucket just in time to be sick.

He held her hair back from her face, while she got sick, then, when she was done; he took the bucket from her.

She lay back onto the pillows and closed her eyes. She felt him run the cool cloth over her face, then kiss her forehead gently. "I'll be right back," he quietly said.

XXXXX

Mac walked back into the bedroom with a now clean bucket and a fresh washcloth. He found Sarah curled into a ball, shivering. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he placed his hand on her back. She was still burning up with fever; this was not a good thing.

"I'm so cold," she mumbled, "Can you turn the heat up?"

"I will," he said, pulling the blankets up over her.

Opening her eyes, she found concern written on his features. "Do I look that bad?" she asked.

"You don't look that good," he gently said, "Why don't you let me take you to the emergency room?"

"No," she said, "It'll pass…" she closed her eyes again, "I'm jusss gonna rest…"

"Try and sleep," he softly said, "I'll be right here."

"You're too good to me…" she mumbled, clutching his hand.

"You can make it up to me when you feel better," he said, watching as she slipped into sleep.

XXXXX

Mac pulled his eyes from the John Wayne movie playing on her wall mounted tv and looked down to find Sarah sleeping peacefully in his arms. She'd stopped shivering a while ago and it felt as if her fever had gone down. She was still warm, but no longer burning up.

She'd been pretty sick and it had worried him. His gut told him to take her to the hospital before she dehydrated herself, but she protested, so he gave in and tended to her as best as he could.

He thought back to the conversation he'd had with Stella earlier that afternoon. She teased him and said something about him being "in love". She said it in a playful, sing-song manner and he'd honestly forgotten about it, until now.

Looking back at his past relationships, Mac would have to admit that he'd only truly been in love one time. Claire was the true love of his life. Their relationship wasn't perfect, far from it. But he had never felt the way he felt when he was with her.

When he thought of her, he thought of the line from the Tom Cruise movie, the one where he tells Rene Zellweger, "You complete me." It was true. She was more than just a part of his life; she was a part of him. When she died, he felt incomplete, empty.

He wasn't "in love" with Peyton. Not in the way he was with Claire. Sure, he cared for her, but she wasn't a part of him. It was far too easy to not think of her, too easy to be apart from her. When they split up, he was upset, but did not feel any less of himself.

And now, there was Sarah. Even before they became romantically involved, he'd found himself thinking of her, waiting to see her, wanting to spend more time with her. And now, that they were together, when he was with her, he felt at ease, a sense of peace. But did that mean he loved her?

Mac took a deep breath and released it slowly, being careful not to wake her. He was a much different person that he was when he met and fell in love with Claire. He'd seen more, lived through more, and had more scars, both physically and emotionally. He wasn't sure he even believed that a relationship could make you any more or less of a person.

Sarah stirred in his arms and let out a soft moan, pulling him from his thoughts. Without really thinking, he kissed her forehead and whispered a soft, "Shhhhh." This apparently worked, because her body relaxed against his and she fell back into a deep sleep.

Listening to her soft, steady breathing, Mac felt his body relax. As sleep began to take hold of his mind, he recalled Halloween night, when Sarah told him she wanted him around for a long, long time. He wasn't sure what he had to offer her, or if he could even keep her, but he made up his mind that he was going to do his best to make sure she didn't change her mind.

XXXXX

Sarah opened her eyes slowly, grateful that the room was no longer spinning. The clock on the cable box read 3:45 and by the darkness in the room, she knew it was 3:45 am. To her right, Mac slept peacefully, still dressed in his shirt and trousers, on top of the covers.

Trying not to wake him, she sat up slowly. "That wasn't so bad," she said aloud, throwing the covers back. As she did, she realized she was wearing only a tank top and a pair of panties. She didn't remember changing out of her work clothes. "Shit, how messed up was I?" she sighed, sliding her legs off the bed and sitting up on the edge.

Summoning all of her strength, she stood up. Instantly, she knew that was the wrong decision. The room began to spin and she felt herself crumbling. As she collapsed, she felt Mac's arms around her.

"What were you thinking?" he gently asked, helping her to sit back down on the bed.

"That I have to pee," she sighed.

He let go of her and got out of bed. Standing next to the bed, he held out his hands, "Come on, I'll help you."

"How humiliating is this?" she moaned, taking his hands and slowly standing up. They stood for a moment.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she said, trying to convince them both. "Okay…"

He walked her into the bathroom.

"Okay…I can do this part," she said. "Just don't go too far…"

He waited just out side of the bathroom while she went and then brushed her teeth. Hearing her tired, "Oh, shit…" he walked in to find her sitting on the edge of the bathtub.

"I just kinda ran out of steam," she said, with a sheepish smile.

"Come on," he helped her up and walked her slowly back to bed. Once she was settled, he pulled up the covers. "Do you feel up to drinking some water?

"You know," she said, "I would kill for a Diet Pepsi."

"I'll get you one…" he said, walking out of the room. He returned a few minutes later with a tall glass. "Diet Pepsi with crushed ice…" he smiled, as she slowly sat up.

"You're spoiling me," she smiled, sipping the soda. It tasted wonderful, but burned its way down her sore throat. "God, that's good." She took another sip, then set the glass on the night stand and lay back onto the pillows. "How bad was I?"

"You were pretty sick," he offered, sitting on the bed.

"You can take your clothes off and get under the covers this time," she offered. "I think I'm done being sick now."

"Are you sure?" he asked, unbuttoning his shirt.

"Yeah," she yawned, watching as he stripped down to his boxers. "Damn, I wish I had some strength left."

He slipped beneath the sheet next to her, pulling her into his arms and kissing her softly. "I wish you did, too."

"I owe you a weekend…" She said, resting her head on his chest and closing her eyes.

"I'll hold you to it," he said, knowing she'd fallen asleep.


	5. It's Only Love That Gets You Through

**A/N: I realized that based on the actual episodes during the time I've set this story – Mac should have been dealing with the 333 messages and all of the fun that came with it. So…that said…I'm going to address it here. Hope you like it!**

"_**You forgive those who have trespassed against you  
And you know tenderness comes from pain  
It's amazing how you love  
And love is kind and love can give  
And love needs no gain." – Sade**_

Once it was over and he could think again, Mac found himself driving to Gramercy and Sarah's apartment. He'd barely spoken to her in the past couple of days and what little contact they did have was rushed and strained.

During their last brief conversation, he could tell by the tone of her voice that she was concerned. She'd told him to be careful and to not worry about her, as if that could happen. Still there was something "off" in her tone, something different. Despite everything that was going on around him, he found himself randomly thinking of her, especially when he woke to find himself in Bedford's laser web. It pained him to think that his last conversation with her had been less than loving.

When she opened the door to her apartment and let him in, he swept her into his arms. Not giving her a chance to ask any questions, he claimed her lips in the first of many kisses and backed her to the bedroom. She went willingly, responding to his advances with a passion of her own.

The sex was frantic and explosive and for a moment, he almost felt guilty about taking her with such abandon, but she pushed those thoughts out of his head with her encouraging moans and her soft words of direction.

When it was over, they lay together, wrapped in each other's arms and a tangle of blankets. He would have been content to lay there together in silence for the rest of the night. But something wasn't right, her body was too tense.

"Sarah," he quietly said, playing with a lock of her dark hair. "Is everything okay?"

XXXXX

Her body was satiated, coming down from the exquisite high of passion, and telling her mind to let go and relax. But Sarah O'Neill's mind was having none of it. As she laid, her head resting on his chest, listening to the steady sounds of his heartbeat, her mind returned to the present and a strange anger took over.

For days, he'd been pulling away from her, or so it seemed to her. Their conversations were rushed, strained, almost as if he was forcing himself to talk to her. Gone was the warmth his voice normally held during their calls, instead it was flat and cold. He told her he was working, told her it was a huge, important case and that he had to go to Chicago. That was about all he told her.

She understood what his job entailed. In the time they'd been seeing each other, he'd been called away to crime scenes, stuck late in the lab, or totally distracted by some small strange detail that surprisingly ended up solving the case. She was fine with his dedication, admired it even. She herself was dedicated to her career and spent a good many late nights at the office.

What didn't sit well with her was the way he had pulled away from her. In the time they'd been dating, she'd come to cherish the closeness they'd built. Friends before lovers, they shared that unique connection of friendship coupled with passion. But lately, she hadn't felt the connection; instead, she felt the walls he'd thrown up around himself. And this is what made her angry.

"Sarah?" he repeated, and she could hear concern in his voice.

Taking a deep breath and releasing it, she pulled back to look at him. With a firm voice she said, "I don't know, Mac, is everything okay?"

XXXXX

Despite the past week, or maybe because of it, her words surprised him, "I'm not sure what you mean."

"I mean, is everything okay? With us?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"What happened in Chicago?" she asked, her unwavering stare telling her that he needed to explain. "Quite obviously, this one got to you…"

"It did," he allowed.

"Want to tell me about it?"

He didn't really want to talk about it, didn't want to bring those thoughts here to the one place he could escape. But her demeanor told him there would be no escape here tonight unless he did. So, he told her the entire story.

She listened intently, not saying a word. He could see the wheels turning behind her brown eyes as she took in his words and digested them. When he was done, she digested his words for a bit and then, slowly, carefully, she spoke.

"And you didn't share this with me, why?"

"I didn't want to get you involved in my problems…" he said, knowing the instant the words left his mouth that they were the wrong words.

"You didn't want to get me involved in your problems," she echoed, as if repeating the words would help her believe she heard him correctly.

"Sarah…"

"So, I'll ask you the question again, Mac. Is everything okay with us? Because, if everything was okay with us, I would think that you'd have shared this with me." She sat up, holding the sheet to her chest. It was a subconscious gesture, but Mac realized it for the barrier that it was.

"I didn't want to…" he began, but she cut him off.

"You didn't want me to know about it? Do you not trust me? Do you not think I can take it?" she insisted, he voice rising. "Maybe I'm wrong here, but I thought we were working at this relationship. Everything was great until the past week or so. You've been so distant, so short. Then you take off for Chicago and I barely hear from you. Quite obviously there was something major going on…"

"I told you, I was working on an active case. I didn't exactly have time to whisper sweet nothings on the phone…" he said, trying to keep his anger in check.

"I know you were on a case, Mac. You told me that. I didn't expect you to whisper sweet nothings or anything of the like. I expected that maybe you would be honest with me. This wasn't _just a case. _This was personal. Come on, Mac, if I'd have known any of this…"

"You would have been worried…"

"And I was worried anyway!" she shot back. "I was worried before you left because you were pulling away from me. I worried while you were gone because I could tell by the tone of your voice that something serious was going on. And I'm worried now, because you don't trust me enough to tell me the truth!"

Mac ran a hand through his hair and looked at her, "It wasn't that I didn't trust you."

"Then what was it?" she asked, her voice a cold hiss.

"I didn't want to bring you into this. I didn't think you needed to be a part of it…" he went on, trying to keep his voice calm. He was exhausted and drained and did not need to have it out with her right now. "It had nothing to do with trust."

"Didn't it?"

"No," he snapped, "It didn't. God damnit, Sarah, don't you understand that our relationship is my respite from all of the shit I deal with from day to day?" His voice grew louder as his control slipped away, "I can stop thinking about it when I'm with you."

"So, I'm supposed to just stay in this state of mindless stasis waiting for you? I'm not supposed to know what's going on in your life. What am I? A Stepford Girlfriend?"

"I didn't say that," he protested.

"Then what the hell did you say? You've been in relationships before. Did you keep them out of your life?"

"No," he shot, "I didn't. Peyton was the ME; she knew damn well what was going on."

"And Claire? Did you tell her? Did she ask?"

He stopped, the mention of Claire's name hitting him like a bucket of cold water. "No. I didn't. She didn't want to know all of the gory details, but if she was concerned, she'd ask and I would explain."

"Then why can't I have the same courtesy?" she replied, her voice quiet, defeated. "Is it that I don't mean as much to you?"

"That couldn't be further from the truth. You mean more to me than you could know." He took her hands in his, "Put yourself in my position, you're starting a relationship with this amazing woman who you've been into for a long time. You're already wondering what in the world you have to offer her; would you want to tell her that some psycho is stalking you?"

"I can see not telling me on the first night, but we've been together a while now, Mac," she sighed. "We've shared all kinds of things. Face it, we both come with some heavy baggage. Neither one of us should expect a perfect relationship out of this."

He knew he wasn't going to win this argument. There were no words that would change what had happened, so he would try honesty. "I was wrong."

She allowed a smile to tug at the corners of her lips, "That wasn't what I was going for…"

"Wasn't it?" he asked. Sensing the storm had passed, he gave her a smile.

"No, it wasn't." She cradled his face in her hands. "Mac, I don't need to know every detail of your day. I only ask that you tell me when something is bothering you, when you're stressed out, or when something becomes personal. You told me that being with me is your respite and that makes me very happy, but I can help even more if I know what's going on."

He studied her face for a moment. Gone was the anger that she'd shown earlier, it was replaced with a look he couldn't quite pinpoint. "I promise, I will try to keep you in the loop. But I'm not really big at sharing. It's not you, I've just never been that way. You may have to ask me…"

"As long as you'll tell me," she countered.

"I will tell you," he leaned forward and kissed her softly. "I'm sorry."

She returned the kiss, "Mac…" she began, but stopped, her eyes showing alarm.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concerned.

She shook her head, "Nothing…"

"Wait a minute," he softly laughed, "You just told me that I am not supposed to keep things from you…"

"I was going to say something," she admitted, a blush creeping across her cheeks, "Something that maybe I shouldn't say."

"Sarah…" he coaxed, kissing her again. He had a feeling what she was going to say. And if his assumption was correct, he'd wanted to say the very same words, but his tongue wouldn't allow it. "Say it…"

Her eyes connected with his and he swore she could see into his soul. He hoped that she could understand the way he felt about her. After a few moments, she smiled and with no trace of nervousness she said, "I've fallen in love with you, Mac Taylor."

He felt a smile spread across his own lips and said, "And I've fallen in love with you as well." He was surprised at the ease with which the words rolled off of his tongue and at the fact that he didn't have a trace of doubt in that feeling any longer.

"Wow," she said, with a laugh, "We've said the "L" word…"

"We did," he agreed.

"And you're okay with it?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't," he simply said. "That's not a word I use lightly."

"I can tell," she agreed.

He kissed her deeply, as their tongues tangled, he pulled her close, their hands traveling each other's bodies, touching, teasing, building desire. This time, when they joined, they made love. There was no frantic urgency to their actions, no rush to relieve each other. Instead, they took their time, enjoying the touches, the feelings, the emotions.

And once again, when they were done, they lay together, arms around each other, bodies still entwined, in a comfortable silence. He listened as her breathing slowed, falling into the easy rhythm of sleep.

And then, finally, Mac allowed his body to relax and willed his brain to turn off and give into the sleep that he so desperately needed.


	6. My Cherie Amour

"_**My Cherie Amour, **_

_**Pretty little one that I adore,**_

_**You're the only one my heart beats for…" – Stevie Wonder**_

The night before Thanksgiving was a cold, rainy one. Not a night that anyone should be out roaming the streets, despite the fact that it was the biggest "party night" of the year. Mac Taylor normally worked through the holiday. But not this year.

Sarah had invited him to have Thanksgiving dinner with her and the children. She said she felt it was time that he met them and since they'd both be around for the day, it would be the perfect opportunity.

When he arrived at her house after work, he found her son Danny, Jr and his partner Jason Lefebvre had already arrived. Both of them were students at Cornell Law School and would be staying with Sarah until Saturday.

He'd known for some time that Sarah's son was gay. She'd told him long before they'd started dating. But, as she said, he was a straight A student and a solid, honest guy. To her, his sexual preference was the least of her worries.

Sarah, apparently, had arrived home barely minutes before he arrived and was back in the bedroom getting changed, so Mac accepted Danny's offer of a beer and sat in the kitchen getting to know them both. Mac found both Danny and Jason to be bright, friendly, open guys. At 23 years old, they both seemed to be very settled in their paths and their desire to stay committed. He decided that he agreed with Sarah's feelings about their sexual preference.

Once Sarah emerged from the bedroom, wearing jeans and a black long sleeved shirt, she coaxed him into getting changed and coming out to help them prep for Thanksgiving dinner. After finishing his beer, he went back and got changed while Sarah went to work and Danny and Jason ran out to pick up Chinese take out.

XXXXX

After changing out of his work clothes into jeans and a t-shirt, Mac walked out the kitchen. He stopped and stood in the doorway to the kitchen for a moment, watching her as she worked, unaware of his presence. As she chopped a stalk of celery with an impossibly large knife, she sang along with the Steve Wonder song on the radio.

"My Cherie amour, pretty little one that I adore, you're the only girl my heart beats for. How I wish that you were mine," she sang, her body moving in time to the music.

Mac smiled, watching her dark curls bouncing as she chopped. Apparently done chopping, she set the knife down and scraped the celery pieces into the large bowl, then turned to the refrigerator and opened the door. She kept singing, still unaware that he stood in the doorway.

"In a café, or sometimes on a crowded street," she went on, taking a package of butter from the shelf and closing the door. "I've been near you, but you never notice me." Looking up and finding him staring, her eyes flew open wide and a blush crept up her cheeks.

He stepped to her, pulled her into his arms and, in a move that would make everyone in the lab fall over from shock, sang along, "My Cherie amour, won't you tell me how you could ignore…"

With a laugh, she joined him to finish the verse, "That behind the little smile I wore how I wish that you were mine."

Laughing, he pulled her closer and kissed her. As they broke it off, they heard the sound of clapping from the doorway. Separating, they turned to find Danny and Jason standing in the doorway holding large brown bags.

"Do you two always do the whole Fred and Ginger thing?" Danny teased, his smile telling Mac that he approved very much of the whole "Fred and Ginger thing."

"That was solely for your behalf," Sarah laughed, making a face at her son.

"Thanks," he nodded, with a laugh. "Now Jason's gonna expect me to do this."

"Spare me, Danny," Jason playfully dismissed, "You don't sing one third as well as your mom and Mac."

"Very funny," Danny deadpanned, rolling his eyes. "Come on, dinner's here. Let's eat before it gets cold."

"Set up in here, we can be casual," Sarah replied.

"Works for me," Danny said, walking into the kitchen. "Come on, Jace, we can use the breakfast bar. After we eat, we'll help you finish prepping for dinner tomorrow."

"You guys sure you don't wanna go out? It's the night before Thanksgiving…" Sarah tried.

"Amateur night," Jason dismissed, sitting at the bar next to Danny. "Too many drunks out tonight, too many holiday gays."

"Holiday gays?" Mac laughed.

"Yes, you know, the guys who get smashed and suddenly decide they want to explore…" Danny explained, then, "Well, women do it too, I suppose…"

"Yeah, they do," Jason nodded. "My sister's one. Two drinks and she'll kiss anything…"

Danny rolled her eyes, "Sounds like my sister."

"Danny…" Sarah warned, trying not to laugh.

"Mom, you know Madi's out right now…"

"Your sister is only 19…." Sarah continued.

"And you're dating a cop," he concluded. "Who should probably know that my sister is out somewhere in this city drinking…"

"Unfortunately," Mac replied, "Unless I witness it…"

"Yeah, I know," Danny nodded. "And you won't even know it to see her. She'll be fine when she shows up tomorrow."

"Always is," Sarah shrugged, handing Mac a container of Wonton soup. "Here, make yourself useful and warm this up for me?"

He looked down at the container and back at her. "In the microwave?"

"Or with your laser vision," she winked, "Whichever is easier."

"Laser vision takes up too much energy," he returned in kind, opening the microwave and placing the container in.

"I like him, Mom," Danny said, "He keeps up with you."

"Yeah, he does."

"And he's cute," Jason added.

"Thanks, I think," Mac laughed.

"You're welcome," Jason winked, then to Sarah, "Don't worry Mrs. O'Neill, I won't try to steal him from you."

"Thanks, Jason, we all appreciate that," she said, returning the wink. "I wouldn't want to have to fight you for him."

"Yeah," Danny agreed, looking up from his Moo Shu Pork. "My money would be on my mother in that fight."

"And just why is that?" Mac asked.

"Well, it's been a long time since Mom's found a guy who's not only good looking and has a decent job, but can actually keep up with her strange sense of humor. I don't think she's going to let that go too easily."

"Let's hope not," Mac replied, giving Sarah a wink.

"Okay, now that you've given Mac a swollen ego," Sarah laughed, "Can we finish all of this prep work so I can get to bed at a decent hour? I need to get up at the butt crack of dawn tomorrow and actually cook this damn dinner."

XXXXX

It was almost eleven by the time Sarah finally declared her work was done and announced that she was going to bed. All night, she'd seemed happy, relaxed, almost buoyant as she worked in the kitchen. He could see that she was glad to have her family around and that she truly enjoyed all of the work that went into preparing their Thanksgiving meal.

As she said good night to Danny and Jason, they told her they were going to settle on the sofa to watch the 24 hour marathon of "A Christmas Story" that was on TNT. They swore they would stay up all night and watch it over and over again. They'd invited Mac to stay up with them, but he thanked them and followed Sarah back to the bedroom.

After closing the door behind him, he turned to find her standing by the bed in a pale blue lace bra and panty set. As she reached for her silk nightgown that lay across her pillow, he stepped to her and pulled her close.

After a moment of surprise, she smiled and wrapped her arms around him. It was late and he knew she had to be exhausted after working all day and spending the whole night in the kitchen, but when he kissed her, she responded with surprising passion, pulling him down onto the bed.

He may have initiated things, but she was the aggressor once they hit the sheets. As much as Mac was used to being in control, he found it easy to relinquish control to her and easily followed her lead as they made love. When they were done, they lay, holding each other.

"I'm glad you came over tonight," she said, her head resting on his chest.

"Me, too," he replied.

"Even though I made you slice up the bread cubes for the stuffing?" she asked, looking up at him with a grin.

"Despite of it," he laughed, kissing the tip of her nose. As he opened his mouth to say something else, his cell phone rang. Reaching over to the night stand, he lifted it and saw Stella's number.

"It's Stella," he announced, flipping open the phone. "Hey, Stella."

"Hey, Mac," Stella's voice began, "I know it's your night off and I really hate to bother you…."

"What do you have?"

"A shooting at Krystal, the night club over in the Theater District," she explained, "Drug deal gone bad. We've got 9 dead, Mac…"

"Say no more, I'll be there."

"Thanks, Mac. Tell Sarah I'm sorry and we'll have you back in plenty of time for dinner tomorrow," she said.

"I'll tell her," he replied, then broke the connection.

"You've got to go, huh?"

He nodded, "Shooting in the Theater District."

"Bad?"

He nodded again, kissing her softly. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head, "It's your job. You coming back when you're done?"

"If you want me to."

"Of course I do," she said. "Invite Stella to come for dinner. We'll have more food than we need."

Mac kissed her again. "I will. Get some sleep; I'll be back as soon as I can."


	7. Before The Dawn

"_**Somehow I know that we cannot wake again from this dream.**_

_**It's not real, but it's ours." – Evanescence**_

Mac drove along Broadway, through the dim light of the early morning. He was grateful for the scant traffic as his mind was anywhere but on the road.

Prior to stepping under the crime scene tape, he'd never been to Krystal night club. Truthfully, he'd had no desire to be there. Loud music and flashing lights weren't his style. He'd stick to his smoky little jazz clubs.

Stella greeted him with a rundown of the scene and a listing of names and details on the 9 dead patrons. Once he heard the name of victim number 7, he knew that life as Sarah knew it would never be the same.

Victim Number 7 was Madyson O'Neill, of East 22nd Street in Gramercy. Her fake id showed that she was 22, although in reality, she was only 19. Just to be sure, Mac walked to the stretcher that held the now sheet covered body and looked for himself.

His heart clenched when he saw the familiar face, surrounded by dark curls like her mother's. Despite his efforts to remain impassive, Stella picked up on his reaction and quietly asked if this was Sarah's daughter. He simply nodded; there weren't any words to say.

He left a few moments later, knowing that he shouldn't be there, that his connection to the victim could taint any evidence in the hands of a crafty defense attorney. Besides, as Stella said, his place wasn't at the crime scene.

But now, as he parked his NYPD issued Avalanche on East 22nd Street, he decided that staying at the crime scene would have been much simpler. At least then he'd know what to do or say. His mind still spinning, trying to come up with the words to tell Sarah that her daughter was dead, he walked into the apartment building.

A few moments after he rang the buzzer, Danny opened the door. True to their word, he and Jason were still up watching The Christmas Story on TNT. He was surprised to find Mac returning so soon and picked up on the older man's expression instantly.

"Everything okay, Mac?" he asked, closing the door behind him.

"Is your mom still asleep?" he asked, his tone coming out a bit cooler than he'd wanted.

"As far as I know," Danny replied, following Mac through the apartment. "What's going on?"

Mac walked back to Sarah's bedroom with both Danny and Jason in tow. He sat on the side of the bed and placed his hand on her arm. "Sarah," he quietly said, "Wake up."

Sarah stirred, but did not wake, so he spoke again, his voice a bit louder. "Sarah, wake up. I need to talk to you."

Her dark eyes blinked open and focused on his face, then moved to Danny and Jason behind him. Instantly wide awake, she sat up. "What?"

His tone official, Mac spoke, "There was a shooting at a nightclub in the Theater District," he began.

"Right, you had to leave…" she nodded, then, with a look that told him she knew exactly where he was heading, she said, "Mac…"

"Twelve people were shot, nine killed," he recited.

Sarah shook her head, her eyes locked on his. "No…"

"Mac?" Danny prompted, confusion written on his features.

"No," Sarah repeated, loudly.

"Sarah, Madyson…" he began, but she cut him off.

"Where is she?"

"She's on her way to the morgue…" he quietly said, watching as the fear evaporated and coldness took over in her dark brown eyes. "You need to…"

"Identify her," she nodded, throwing back the covers. "Let me get dressed."

"Come on, Guys," Mac said, placing a hand on Danny's shoulder, "Let's let your mom get dressed."

He walked them out of the bedroom and as soon as the door shut behind them, Danny fixed him with an expression that tore at his heart.

"What happened Mac?"

"It looks like a drug deal gone bad," Mac quietly said, "From all signs; Madyson was caught in the crossfire."

Tears welled in Danny's eyes, but he held it together. "Let me get dressed." With that, he walked into his bedroom, leaving Mac and Jason alone in the hallway.

"How bad was it?" Jason asked.

Mac was taken off guard by his question, "What?"

"What are we walking into? How bad will she look?" he asked.

Mac shook his head, "She was shot in the chest. They won't see it…"

Jason nodded, "Good, I don't want his last memory of his sister to be brutal…"

Mac placed a reassuring hand on Jason's shoulder and offered him a smile, "Danny's lucky you're here for him."

"And Mrs. O'Neill's lucky you're here for her," Jason nodded, "Guess we'll be the strong ones huh?"

"Jason, if you guys need anything…"

"Thanks, Mac," Jason nodded, "Let me go check on Danny."

As Jason disappeared into Danny's bedroom, Mac opened the door to Sarah's room and walked in. She sat on the end of the bed dressed in jeans and a pullover sweater, her dark hair pulled back into a pony tail. From a distance, she would look like the college co-ed her daughter was.

Hearing him walk in, she looked up from pulling on a pair of socks. "I'll be ready in a minute," she said, her voice cool, even.

"Take your time," he said, watching her. Her movement was oddly calm and it left him unsettled.

She slipped on a pair of loafers and stood up, "Okay," she began, "I'm ready."

"Sarah," he quietly said, taking her hands and finding them cold as ice.

She shook her head again, "I'm okay, really. Let me go get my coat."

XXXXX

Mac was glad to find that Sid Hammerback had been the one to process Madyson. He'd held off on the autopsy, knowing that Mac was bringing Sarah down to identify her.

When Mac brought Sarah, Danny and Jason down to the morgue, Sid met them at the door. After being introduced, he offered his condolences and personally escorted them into the autopsy room. It wasn't standard protocol, but standard protocol usually went out the window when the victim had a personal connection.

Danny froze at the door to the autopsy room, his body unwilling to process what it was required to do, but Sarah walked straight in and stopped next to the sheet draped body. Her hand went out to touch it, but she stopped and looked at Sid.

"I'm sorry, Sarah," he said, "We haven't finished with her…"

Sarah nodded, understanding his meaning and drew her hand back. "Can I see her?"

Sid nodded and slowly pulled the sheet down to reveal her face.

Mac's eyes were trained on Sarah's face, watching as the emotions processed through her eyes. Fear moved to realization and then to sadness for a moment, before the emotion again flickered out and left her eyes cold and emotionless. She stood, in silence, staring at Madyson's face.

"Sarah," Sid gently prompted.

"That's her," Sarah's voice said, sounding hollow and distant.

"I'm sorry," Sid replied.

Sarah nodded and turned around. Fixing Mac with her emotionless gaze she said, "Do I need to sign anything?"

"You'll have to sign for her effects," he explained, "They'll be released when we finish processing them."

"Fine," she said, and then turned to Sid, "Thank you Dr. Hammerback. I'm sorry that I had to meet you under these circumstances."

"I am too," he replied.

"Mac, can you get me those papers to sign?" she asked, walking to the door.

XXXXX

She knew she should be feeling something, but Sarah couldn't feel a thing. As she signed the very official looking form, stating her intent to claim Madyson's body and belongings once Dr. Hammerback and Mac's team were done with them, she thought she probably should have been crying or angry, or anything but numb.

She barely remembered climbing into the Avalanche for the short ride down 2nd Avenue to her apartment. Yet there they were, pulling up on 22nd Street and, unbelievably, finding a parking spot right out front.

The clock struck four as they walked back into the apartment. Despite the fact that it felt like days since Mac woke her, it had only been a couple of hours. The sun had yet to rise and all four of them really didn't need to be standing there staring at each other.

She dismissed Danny and Jason back to bed, telling them to get some sleep. They both looked exhausted and drained and the next couple of days would be difficult. Since it was a holiday, there was nothing they could do, except get some rest.

Once they were back in Danny's room, she found herself alone with Mac. He was looking at her with those damned intense eyes of his. She wanted him to go to bed, to leave her alone to digest the night, but not to go too terribly far away because she needed his support and strength. Yet he stood, watching her, waiting for her to do or say something. The problem was she didn't know what to do or say.

"Why don't we go back and try to get some sleep," he finally suggested, and she could tell he knew what her answer would be.

She shook her head, "You go on. I…need to move right now." And then, she knew what to do. She would cook the Thanksgiving dinner they'd spent all night preparing. No sense letting all of that food go to waste.

As she walked into the kitchen, she felt those eyes on her, following her every move. This was not a good thing. As much as she loved him, she didn't need him to be watching her, waiting for her to crumble. She turned to find him in the doorway.

"I'm going to start making the pies…"

"Are you sure you want to…" he began, but she cut him off.

"I _need_ to," she simply said, praying that he'd understand. "I can't lie down. I don't want to stop and think…."

He digested her words for a moment, and then walked into the kitchen. She watched as he took a knife out of the drawer, then tore open the bag of apples that sat on the counter. Taking an apple out, he turned to her, "I'll cut these up, you do the crust."

The tears nearly came as she watched him peel the apple. She could feel them hot and stinging behind her eyes, but that's where they stayed. She wanted to thank him, wanted to tell him that his simple act proved to her that he both loved and understood her, but she couldn't muster the emotion.

Instead, she nodded and started in on the pie crust. After all, if she stayed moving, kept working, she could get through this.


	8. Sullen Girl

"_**And there's too much going on**_

_**But it's calm under the waves**_

_**In the blue of my oblivion." – Fiona Apple**_

Stella Bonasera stood outside of Mac's office for a moment, watching him as he worked. She was surprised to see him in the office that morning, thinking that he'd have taken the day to be with Sarah as she planned Madyson's funeral. He'd explained that Sarah had insisted he go in to work, telling him that she needed to do this on her own.

Quite obviously, this didn't sit well with him, but he did as she asked and sat in his office, going through his own private hell. By mid afternoon, she couldn't bear to watch him any longer and decided to try again to talk him into leaving.

Taking a deep breath, she walked to the open door and knocked on the frame. "Mac?" she began, causing him to raise his eyes to her.

"Come on in," he said, sitting back in his chair. "What can I do for you, Stella?"

"Nothing at all," she said, sitting on the end of his desk, "I'm here about what you can do for yourself."

With a weary expression, he said, "And just what would that be?"

"Leave. Go be with Sarah."

"Stella…."

"No, Mac, you're torturing yourself sitting there," she protested. "We don't have any pressing cases; you really do not need to be here."

"She wanted to do this by herself, I'm trying to give her space," he reasoned, but Stella would her nothing of it.

"That would have been believable if I hadn't known you so long. What's going on?"

Mac took a breath and released it slowly, clearly debating whether or not to tell her what was on his mind. After a moment, he spoke, "I'm worried about her."

"Of course you would be, she just lost a child, she's got to a wreck…"

"That's what's got me worried. She's not a wreck."

"She isn't?"

"It's as if she's shut down completely."

"Maybe she's cried herself out."

He shook his head, "That's the thing, Stella, she hasn't cried. Not at all and I've been with her the whole time. From the moment I told her, she was calm, cold. That's not her. She doesn't hide her emotions."

"Maybe she's in shock and her mind isn't processing it yet?"

"No, I don't think so. There were flashes of emotion in her eyes, when we were in the morgue, when we got home, last night over dinner. But as soon as the emotions appear, they're gone."

"Okay, so she's processing it. Maybe this is her way of trying to deal with it."

"Or not," he ran his hands over his face. "I thought that she might be holding it all in on my behalf, so I didn't go with her today. I just talked to her son, he said she hasn't changed. She came home from the funeral home, poured herself a glass of wine and started cleaning the house. Half a bottle of wine later, she's making telephone calls to fill the family in on the funeral details and planning dinner."

"Have you heard from her?"

"She called after they left the funeral home. Everything is tomorrow morning. They're cremating Madyson and taking her ashes out to Coney Island."

"How did she sound?"

"The same. It was as if she were telling me about her book club meeting or something, then she asked me if I'd be there for dinner."

When he raised his eyes to her, Stella could read the worry.

"Mac, go home. Go be with her. Eventually, she's going to break and she's going to need you there."

XXXXX

Mac let himself into Sarah's apartment with the key she'd given him that morning. Taking off his jacket, he took a quick look around and found her sitting at the dining room table.

"Hey," Sarah said, looking up at him with glassy eyes.

"Hey yourself," he replied, walking to her. "What are you up to?"

"I'm looking for pictures for the memorial," she shrugged, taking a long drink from her wine glass.

Mac's eyes traveled to the bottle, finding it only ¼ full of dark red wine. "You drink all that by yourself?"

She nodded.

"Where are Danny and Jason?"

"NYU…going through her dorm room, packing up her stuff. Looking for Danny's Yankees jersey so she can wear it at the memorial…"

He remembered the story Sarah told about the autographed Thurman Munson jersey and how it was Danny's prized possession. After his death, Madyson took it for her own and practically lived in it. It was fitting that she wear it.

"They're going to box up all of her stuff and bring it home before they leave on Sunday," she said, refilling her glass.

"Have you eaten?"

She thought for a moment, taking another mouthful of wine, "I had half a bagel this morning."

"That was before I left," he frowned, "Did you eat anything else?"

She shrugged, "Not hungry."

"Why don't you let me make you a sandwich?"

"I'm good," she replied, standing up. "Want some wine?"

"I'm good," he echoed. "But maybe you've had enough?"

"I don't think I have," she simply said, slipping her arms around him and kissing him.

"I do," he returned, "You're going to have a killer headache in the morning."

"It doesn't matter," she kissed him again. "I don't wanna think about the morning." She pressed her body to his, kissing him passionately, her fingers working to unbutton his shirt.

"Sarah," he softly said, as she pulled back, a curious expression on her face. In her eyes, he saw pain mixed with desire.

"Mac," she replied, leaning forward to kiss him again.

She was drunk and emotional and his mind kept protesting that no matter how tempting, he would be taking advantage of the situation if he took her to bed. Despite his mind's protests, his body was responding with a surprising strength. When her hands travelled along to the straining zipper of his dress pants, a low moan escaped his lips and he groaned her name. "Sarah...we can't."

"Why not?" she whispered, her lips nipping at his.

"Because...we can't... You're not yourself."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"And you're my guardian now?" she retorted, anger and lust flashing in her eyes as she pulled away from him.

"Yes." he said firmly. "I am. You're grieving."

She blinked at him, "So?"

"So I won't make love to you while you're drowning your sorrows in Merlot. I'm sorry, Sarah, but as much as I want to, I won't."

"God. Mac, don't become a fucking Boy Scout on me now...I need you...I need you to need me...." Her voice trailed off, her eyes once again emotionless.

"Sarah, honey," he murmured as he wrapped his arms around her. "I do need you, but not like this. Tonight, I can just hold you, okay? We'll go to bed and just lie down…"

"I don't want to just lie down, damn it," she snapped, then, she softened. "I want you. Don't you get it? I've been so numb. I just need to feel something…anything."

She raised her eyes to him, showing him the deep pain that lurked just beneath her motionless façade.

Mac was no stranger to the pain or to the cold numb feeling that came from loss. He did nothing to fight it and in the months and years after Claire's death, he let it consume him. He didn't want that same fate for Sarah.

"I know, Sweetheart," he softly said, kissing her forehead. "I know."

"Then help me, Mac," she whispered, bringing her lips to brush his, "Help me feel."

The pain in her eyes and in her words melted his dissolve and he claimed her mouth in a searing kiss.

XXXXX

After a few minutes, Sarah pulled him with her onto the sofa. As he laid her back onto the soft cushions, she reveled in the feelings that were taking over her body. 48 hours of numbness had left her raw and aching and each touch, each kiss was startling in its intensity and left her wanting more.

Once they were naked, she held him close, feeling each inch of his skin against hers, as their hungry kisses continued, taking her breath away. When he finally entered her, she buried her face in his neck, breathing in the lingering scent of the cologne he'd applied in the morning

She traced a lazy trail along his neck to his ear with her tongue, drawing a moan that she felt as well as heard. Normally, that move drove him wild, but tonight, she felt no change in his motion. She knew that he was holding back, trying to be gentle, taking it slow. But she was in no mood for it. Tonight, she needed to be taken; she needed to feed her soul with raw passion to fill the hole that had grown in the past 48 hours.

"God damnit, Mac," she said, her lips close to his ear, "Send the Boy Scout home and bring on the Marine."

Without a reply, he increased the strength of his thrusts, the force of his lips on hers. It still wasn't enough.

"Stop holding back," she demanded, between kisses that grew rawer, more savage.

XXXXX

He'd thought that taking it easy would have been the right thing, given her emotional state of the past two days; he felt her fragile, breakable. Yet there she was, writhing beneath him, her nails digging into the skin of his biceps, demanding that he take her with abandon.

Letting go was easier than he thought it should be. Watching her suffer through losing her daughter had awoken emotions that he'd thought he'd gotten past, the pain, the grief, and the need for something to fill the emptiness left behind. On some level, he needed her as much as she needed him. Giving into that need, he let go of his control.

Her body met each thrust with one of her own, driving them both to a very intense end. He watched her, her eyes closed, back arched, as she cried out in completion and followed her a moment later, the force of his climax taking him off guard, causing him to collapse onto her.

As they came down, she held him tightly, her body wrapped around him, her head on his shoulder and he wondered if this would be her breaking point. If the physical release would allow her the emotional release she needed.

"I love you, Mac," she quietly said, not raising her head.

"I love you, too," he replied, "You okay?"

She nodded, and then slowly released her hold on him. As she lowered her legs to the sofa, he could feel her body tense again. _This is it_, he thought. _This is where she breaks._

XXXXX

Sarah felt the emotions building, wanting to spill out. The intensity of their lovemaking surprised her almost as her ability to let go and give into the sensations he'd created, but that release was only physical.

Her body was tired, satisfied, relaxed, and she thought for a moment that her emotions might follow. But, no matter how much she wanted to breakdown, the tears wouldn't come. The fullness she'd felt just a moment ago was quickly giving way and allowing the empty hollow to return and take over again.

XXXXX

"We'd better get dressed," Mac softly said, sitting up onto the sofa. "The boys will be home soon."

She sat up quickly, scrambling for her clothes.

"Wait a minute," he chuckled, reaching out and pulling her back into his arms. As he did, he felt it, the tenseness was back. "Sarah…"

She looked up at him, with that damned emotionless expression.

"I'm sorry, Mac," she said, standing up, her clothing in her arms. "I tried."

_**A/N – Thank you is not enough to say to my "sistah" Susan, who, thanks to her amazing creativity and the Spaten Oktoberfest helped me to write this chapter! **_


	9. Feel

"_**Well, I'm a wreck**_

_**I'm a mess,**_

_**I'm a spot on the pavement" – Matchbox Twenty**_

Surprises weren't really Mac Taylor's thing. Truth be known, he didn't like being surprised. Most of the things that surprised him in life were not positive things. He preferred knowing all angles, so that when things happened, they weren't a surprise.

Sarah, on the other hand, embraced surprises. She was happy with the smallest unexpected gesture or gift. She'd told him that she didn't want to know the future because if she did, she'd spend her time dreading the unpleasant and not focusing on the time she had before it. She didn't want to miss out on any more time in her life.

In the three weeks since Madyson's death, Sarah had decided that one way of not missing out on her life was to "rediscover" the city. In what little free time she had, she wanted to be out and about, revisiting things she'd seen as a child and then dismissed as "touristy".

So far, she'd dragged him to the top of Rockefeller Center, the Statue of Liberty, and her personal favorite – Greenwich Village. Although, she lamented the demise of CBGB's, she still managed to find a club with blaring punk music and dragged him in to witness the carnage.

She'd changed in those three weeks, there was an edge of anger to her, something she said was a constant in her high school and college years, when she embraced the punk culture and hid her good grades and musical talent behind zippers, safety pins and a sneer.

She told him that the freedom and independence were a part of her, a part that she'd given up when she married Danny and started their family. She decided, that with Danny Sr and Madyson gone and Danny Jr off forming his own life, it was time to "reclaim" what she'd given up.

Mac wasn't too sure of her motives. He more believed she was still avoiding the grief and replacing it with anger. It was a casebook reaction to losing a loved one. He was torn between enjoying the "new" Sarah – who was more spontaneous, more edgy, and worrying about the fact that she still hadn't let go, still hadn't broken down, and still hadn't shed a tear.

She rejected his suggestions to visit a psychiatrist, saying she was fine and that she was dealing with this her own way. He couldn't force her to go, he could only sit back and watch as she went through these changes and support her the best he could.

He decided they both needed a break from the usual. Unbeknownst to Sarah, he had been trying for days to book them a weekend away. He thought of taking her out to the Hamptons, but the thought of spending the weekend in a beach town in 35 degree weather was not something he thought she'd like.

As a marketing rep for a bridal gown manufacturer, this was Sarah's busy time. Bridal Fashion Week took place in February and December was crunch time. His caseload was always overbearing, so going somewhere further was next to impossible.

He was about to give up on the whole idea when he overheard Adam and Sheldon talking about a boutique hotel near Times Square named Night. Taking a chance, he looked it up on line. Given her new edge, he thought the place would be perfect. Dark, gothic, and, according to the ad, sexy, he could easily picture her lying across the round black and white bed pictured on the website.

The fact that the place was a block from Times Square – the next stop on her rediscovery of Manhattan, was a bonus. So he booked them a weekend package complete with a dozen of white roses and a bottle of Vueve Clicquot that would be waiting for them upon arrival

She loved the choice of hotels, loved the roses, and popped the bottle of champagne right away. Kicking off her shoes, she stretched across the bright white covers on the round bed and sipped.

XXXXX

"Very good choice, Detective," she said, feeling his eyes upon her. "Never slept on a round bed before…this should be interesting."

"Me either," he laughed, sitting down, "I hope we don't roll off…"

"Now that would be interesting," she replied, with a giggle, "We may have to try it…"

He leaned over and kissed her. "Want to try it now?"

"Very tempting…" she purred, tracing her tongue over his lower lip, "But…I have not eaten since 9 am and I need food…"

"Room service?" he asked, in a sexy voice that was damn hard to resist.

But she wasn't ready to be in for the night. She needed to be outside, with the noise, the crowds, the lights…even if only for a little while. "You know what I'm really in the mood for?" she asked, suddenly remembering that there was a Hard Rock Café in Times Square.

"Tell me."

"Hard Rock's pulled pork bar-be-que…" she said. "And since we're right around the corner…"

"Hard Rock it is," he nodded.

She could see a flicker of disappointment in his eyes and pulled him close again, "After I eat, I promise…" She kissed him. "We'll come back here and see if we can fall off of the round bed."

XXXXX

After eating til she swore she would bust, Sarah talked Mac into a quick walk around Times Square. She always thought there was something terribly romantic about walking hand in hand through the crowd.

The night was chilly, but she didn't care. She felt better than she'd felt in weeks, taking in the lights and the sights, feeling as if she were seeing everything for the first time, with new eyes. Even Mac seemed lighter, more relaxed, holding her hand, stealing a kiss here and there. It was, she decided, one of the best nights she'd had in ages.

As they walked past the M&M Store, Mac laughed, "Now that's a store I'd be afraid to leave you alone in."

"And why is that?"

"You'd move in," he teased as they made their way down Broadway.

"I would," she nodded, "I could live on M&M's…and Diet Pepsi. Let's hope they have a soda machine in a break room somewhere."

They walked along in silence until they reached 44th and turned towards Seventh Avenue. As they reached the intersection she spoke, "Oh, look over at the Kids R Us. It's Snoopy!"

Mac followed her gaze to find a Snoopy character walking around in front of the store. "You're a Snoopy fan?"

She nodded, then, with an impish grin, "Let's go see…"

Although he was shaking his head, he followed her across the street and into the store to the giant display of Snoopy items. "Check this out! Snoopy as a lawyer!" she gushed, "I've got to get this for Danny. Do you mind if I get in line?"

"I don't mind at all," he said with a smile, "The line's not that long."

Giving Mac a peck on the cheek, she walked over and got in line behind a younger dark haired woman.

"Chloe," the woman began, "Are you sure you want that Barbie?"

"Yes, Mommy," replied a little girl's voice. "I want dis one."

"Did you want dresses too?" the woman went on.

"I got dresses, Mommy," the girl answered, poking her head around the woman's leg. Spotting Sarah, she smiled shyly, and then turned her attention back to her mother. "And, anyway, I wanna go to Hello Kitty. That's my favorite."

Sarah studied the girl, with her long dark curls and big brown eyes; she looked so much like Madyson that it took Sarah's breath away. As the girl stood in line, singing a made up song about Hello Kitty, Sarah felt her heart break. Madyson would randomly make up songs about her favorite toys, her favorite friends, or anything else that caught her fancy. The similarities were just too strong as was the pain that came with them.

Closing her eyes, she tried to get a grip on the emotions that were overtaking her.

"Miss?" began a voice from behind her, "Miss?"

She opened her eyes and turned to the man behind her.

"The line is moving…" he gently said.

"Oh, sorry…" was her numb reply, as she turned and stepped up behind Chloe and her mom again.

As she did, Chloe finished singing her song and broke into a gap toothed grin. "Whatcha think, Mom?"

"Beautiful, Chloe," her mom laughed, bending and sweeping the girl into a hug. As she did, Chloe threw her arms around her mother's neck and gave her a loud kiss on the cheek.

The pain rolled through her core, overwhelming Sarah with its force. She felt the walls closing in on her and wanted only to get out of the store. She needed to be back outside, back in the noise…back in the crowd. Dropping the Snoopy, she bolted from the store feeling the tears burning in her eyes.

She was dimly aware of Mac's voice calling her name as she pushed past people on her way outside but couldn't stop. She didn't want to lose it, especially not in a toy store and thought that if she could just get outside, just feel the cold air on her face, she'd be able to gain control.

She stumbled out the door and to the corner making it about twenty feet down 44th Street before the tears started, accompanied by loud, body shaking sobs. She couldn't stop them and as the emotions took over, she didn't even try. She ceased caring about the looks of the people who walked by, their faces blurred, their voices blending with the crowd noises. As her knees gave out and she sank to the sidewalk, she felt a pair of arms around her.

"Sarah," Mac's voice said, its tone a mixture of concern and relief. "Sweetheart…"

She wanted to say something to him, but she just kept crying, burying her face in the wool of his top coat, breathing in his scent. He held her tightly, talking to her calmly, stroking her hair, telling her it would all be okay.

After what seemed like hours, the tears slowed and the sorrow was replaced with exhaustion like she'd never felt before. She pulled back and looked up at him, finding his concerned expression looking back at her.

"Hey there," he softly said.

"I'm a mess, huh?" she sniffed, embarrassment creeping in.

He smiled at her, "You're beautiful."

Despite the situation, she laughed, "You have a strange definition of beautiful."

"Think you can stand?"

She nodded, "Yeah, help me up?"

He stood and helped her up, holding her arms to steady her. "Think you can walk back to the hotel?"

She nodded again. He slipped his arm around her shoulder and led her back out onto Seventh Avenue. Feeling cold and exhausted, she concentrated only on putting one foot in front of the other.

XXXXX

Mac opened the door to their room and helped Sarah inside, then turned to close and lock the door. When he turned back to the room, he found her, sitting on the bed, still wearing her coat, shivering.

"Let's get you into bed," he said, walking to her.

"I can't stop shaking," she said, unbuttoning her coat.

"I can see that." He helped her stand up and remove her coat. "Did you pack pajamas?"

She shook her head, "For a get away weekend with you?"

With a soft chuckle, he kissed her forehead. "I've got an extra t-shirt…it will have to do. Sit down and let me get it."

"I'm okay," she protested, "I can stand on my own…"

He let her go and turned to his over night bag, digging through it to find the t-shirt and sweats that he'd packed just in case he got up to go running. He turned back around to find her standing near the bed, wearing only her navy blue lace bra and panties, watching him with wide, tired eyes.

"Is that new?" he asked.

She nodded as she unhooked the bra and slipped it from her shoulders. "I ran out to LaPerla at lunch…guess I wasted the money, huh?"

"You don't need expensive lingerie for me," he softly said, helping her slip his t-shirt over her head. She slipped her arms in then pulled it down. "I kinda like you in my old t shirt."

She smiled sadly.

"Want the sweats too?"

"No, I think I'll be okay."

He pulled down the blankets, "Come on, get in bed." Once she was settled, he covered her, bending to kiss her softly.

'I'm sorry," she said, her eyes fighting to stay open. "I ruined your night."

"You didn't ruin anything," he replied.

"I'll make it up to you," she mumbled, as she gave up the fight. "Tomorrow."

He watched as her breathing slowed and her furrowed brows smoothed. For the first time in three weeks, she was soundly asleep.


	10. With Bells On

"_**I'll be home with bells on,**_

_**Trim the trees and wrap the presents**_

_**Turn the Christmas music on**_

_**This Christmas I'll be home with bells on" – Dolly Parton **_

Sarah looked around the apartment, satisfied that it was as clean as it was going to get. She hadn't planned on having company for Christmas. Danny and Jason were spending the holiday with Jason's family in Arizona. They'd offered to stay with her, but she wouldn't hear of it. She'd had them for Thanksgiving, such that it was. Jason's family had been eagerly awaiting this visit and she wasn't going to take it from them.

She didn't feel up to decorating, so the boxes remained packed in the closet. Despite the countless invitations they'd both received, she and Mac had agreed to spend Christmas together quietly. They'd planned to hole up in her apartment from when he finished his shift on Christmas Eve until the morning of the 26th when they both had to return to work. They were both looking forward to relaxing, turning off the world and being together.

Until the afternoon of the 22nd, when his mother called to remind him that her flight would be getting into JFK at 2pm the next day, Mac had totally forgotten that she was coming in for the holiday. It had been years since she'd visited and sometime around Halloween, she told him she was coming out. He'd even bought her ticket. But somehow, with everything that had been going on since Thanksgiving, that detail had slipped his mind.

His visions of a quiet holiday with Sarah went up in smoke as his brain scrambled with plans to find his mother a decent meal for Christmas and to try to put some life into the apartment he'd barely spent time in since Thanksgiving.

When he told Sarah what was going on, she gently scolded him for forgetting that his mom was coming, and then proceeded to make plans. His apartment, she decided, would not do. It had no life, no soul, and his mother deserved to stay somewhere warm – like Sarah's place. This way, she reasoned, both women could share him.

She swore she saw a moment of doubt in his eyes, but he acquiesced and the decision was made. Millie Taylor would be staying in Danny Jr's old bedroom.

After lighting the multitude of candles that she'd sprinkled around the living and dining rooms, Sarah walked back into the bedroom to get changed.

XXXXX

As he navigated the traffic out of JFK Airport, Mac stole a glance over at his mother. It had been a while since he'd seen her but surprisingly, she hadn't seemed to have changed one bit. Her graying blonde hair was swept up into its usual twist and her make up, subtle but perfect. Feeling his eyes on her she turned and smiled at him.

"Trying to remember what I look like?" she teased.

"Ma," he returned, rolling his eyes.

"I'm teasing, Mac," she said, patting his hand. "So, tell me all about Sarah."

"I thought I did that on the phone," he laughed.

"You told me about what's happened to her," she corrected, "But you haven't told me much about her."

He thought for a moment, "She's about 5'8", 150 lbs. Dark hair, brown eyes…"

"McCanna," Millie said, fixing him with a smart smile, "Is she your girlfriend or a crime victim?"

Mac laughed, "What do you want to know, Ma?"

"What made you ask her out?" she asked.

Mac thought for a moment, knowing that she wouldn't let him out of the question. "I don't know," he began, "We've known each other for a while."

Millie nodded, "You said you met at Cozy's?"

He nodded, "Yes, she sings with the group on Wednesday nights. I guess we hit it off right away…we have a lot in common. But, I was seeing Peyton at the time."

"I just don't know what you saw in the woman…"

"Ma…we're not talking about Peyton."

"Fine, then tell me, what made you break down and ask Sarah out?"

He smiled, not willing to tell her about the spontaneous combustion of their first night together. "I guess I thought it was time."

Millie laughed, "You're still a romantic."

Mac laughed with her, then, quietly, his eyes on the road, "I don't know, Ma. I haven't felt like this in a long time."

"I know," she softly replied. "I know."

XXXXX

"I'm telling you, Millie," Sarah said, as she refilled her wine glass, "You're a lucky charm! We've eaten at Craft four times and never have we seen Tom Colicchio."

"Yes, but he wasn't happy that I sent my steak back," she laughed.

"Until you charmed him into a free meal with that senior citizen from Chicago who's a big fan routine," Mac dryly laughed.

"I did no such thing! I am a big fan!"

"All I know is I'm going to dinner with you more often," Sarah winked.

"Darling, you have to have my son bring you out to Chicago," Millie winked, "We've got some really good restaurants."

"I've never been to Chicago," Sarah mused, looking at Mac, "We might have to do that."

"I know," Millie went on, "What about Easter? You can come out and I'll make Easter dinner."

"Ma," Mac gently said, "That's a while away…"

"Oh," she replied, her expression telling him she thought she went too far. "I'm sorry…"

"What I mean," he said, with a smile and a squeeze of Sarah's hand, "Is that I'm not sure what's going to be going on with the lab."

Relief crossed his mother's features, "Well, you two keep it in mind."

"I'd like to come out," Sarah said, causing Millie to smile. "And if we can swing it, we'll be there."

"Good," Millie nodded, finishing her glass of wine. "I think I'm going to turn in. What time did you say we have to be at the Spa tomorrow, Sarah?"

"Ten am, Millie," she replied, "If we leave here by 9:15, we'll make it there in time."

"I'll be up and ready," she replied, standing, "Actually, I'll probably be up when Mac leaves."

"Coffee will be waiting for ya, Ma," he said, "If you're up in time, I'll have a cup with you."

"Then I'll be up. Good night you two," she said, and then made her way back to the bedroom.

Mac watched her walk off, then turned his attention back to Sarah. She was smiling at him. "What?"

"I like your Mom," she said.

"I think she likes you too," he agreed, giving her a kiss. "Thank you for inviting her to go to the spa with you tomorrow."

"I can't believe she's never had a massage," Sarah replied.

He shrugged, "That just wasn't her thing. She always took good care of herself, but she did most of it on her own."

"She's a beautiful woman, Mac, inside and out. I'm really looking forward to spending the day with her tomorrow."

"I'm almost afraid of what you two will talk about all day," he teased, pulling her into his arms.

"Probably you," she grinned, "Why? Are there embarrassing stories of young Mac Taylor?"

He rolled his eyes, "I'm sure she could come up with a few."

"Ooooh, I can't wait to hear them…" she kissed him. "I promise, I won't hold them over your head. Much."


	11. What If?

"_**What if you should decide**_

_**That you don't want me there by your side**_

_**That you don't want me there in your life?" - Coldplay**_

Millie Taylor sat at the small table idly watching the bar's patrons. It had been a long time since she'd been to a jazz club, too long. She smiled, remembering nights back before Mac was born when they sat in a small club, listening to jazz and blues. McCanna Taylor loved his jazz and blues and his son took after him in that respect.

Mac had told her that he played in a pick up jazz band from time to time and that was how he met Sarah. Sarah told it a bit differently, telling Millie about how talented her son was and he even had groupies. Mac downplayed it, but there they were, at the next table over, their eyes following him where ever he went as he moved around the bar.

Sarah took it in stride, giving Millie a wink when she teased him. She even encouraged him to talk to them, to "give them a thrill", as she put it. Mac laughed and dismissed the idea by telling them that they were the only two women in the room that mattered.

From what she'd learned about Sarah over the past four days, Millie knew she wasn't a woman who was easily swayed by slick lines and from most other men, that's exactly what that would have been, but not from her son. Honest to a fault, she knew he meant every word. So, apparently, did Sarah, as her smart smile grew soft and she squeezed his hand.

It had been a long time since Millie had seen her son like this. His normally intense personality was still there, but since he'd picked her up at the airport, he'd been more relaxed, even happy at times. Even as a child, Mac was intense more than happy, but Millie learned to enjoy those moments when he let loose and laughed. She'd seen quite a few of those over the holiday.

As the house lights dimmed, the band began to play. Millie watched her son as he stood to the side of the stage, playing his bass with a nonchalant demeanor. A smile crossed his features as Sarah stepped to the microphone and began to sing.

"If I was your woman and you were my man, you'd have no other woman, you'd be weak as a lamb…" she began, surprising Millie with her rich alto voice and the ease at which she worked the microphone.

The song had a strong bass line and Mac handled it easily. Despite their claims that they were just a "pick up band", the group played well together and picked up on each other's queues well. But what Millie enjoyed most of all was the subtle interplay between Mac and Sarah, the looks, the smiles, all of which told her exactly how much of her son's heart this woman now held.

XXXXX

Pulling the door shut quietly, Mac made his way across the darkened bedroom. There was just enough light shining through the window for him to navigate the room and get undressed, although, he was so used to being there that by now; he could have done it in total darkness.

As he undressed, he thought back to the conversation he'd had with his mother a few moments ago. She'd followed him into the kitchen as he set up the coffee maker for the morning, telling him again how much she'd enjoyed the night.

They'd talked a bit about the band, the club, and finally, Sarah. It seemed that during the few times they were actually alone this week, the conversation usually ended up on Sarah. This time, his mother flat out asked him if he'd thought about his future with Sarah.

Taken off guard, he'd admitted that he hadn't. He was honest with his mother when he told her they both just seemed to be content to live day-to-day. This brought a shaking head and clucking tongue from Millie Taylor.

"Mac," she began, with the look that told him he was woefully off the mark in his thinking. "You have something special on your hands. I can see it in the way you both look at each other."

"What are you talking about, Ma?" he asked, although, he knew very well what she meant, he just wasn't ready to trust his gut on this one.

"I think you know very well what I'm talking about," she continued, "You're in love with Sarah, Mac." Then, as if reading his mind, she said, "Trust your gut on this one. I think you'll be glad you did."

"Ma…"

"You know, you've always held your feelings so close to your vest," she fondly said. "But you forget who you're talking to."

"I haven't forgotten for a minute," he chuckled.

"Then what are you going to do about it?"

"Do about what? Who said I have to do anything?"

"You don't," she began.

"But?"

"There's no but," she shrugged, leaning against the counter.

"You forget who you're talking to," he countered.

Millie laughed, "Touché."

"You were saying?" he prompted, watching as she grew thoughtful.

"I was saying," she said, her voice growing quiet, "That after we lost Claire, I wondered if you would ever open yourself up this much again…"

"You make it sound like I was a hermit," he replied, still not giving in. "I dated."

"You did," she allowed, still pushing, "But tell me this, Mac, did you love them?"

She had him there and he had to admit it, "No."

"Mac, Sweetheart," she softly said, "Life's short. Enjoy it." Standing up on her tiptoes, she pecked his cheek, "I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

He had to admit that his mother had a point. Life was short, too short. He learned that fact the hard way and had spent way too many nights sitting alone thinking "what if".

This time, he thought he was being more open, more free with his heart. Apparently, his mother didn't think he was.

As he slipped into bed, he looked down at Sarah as she slept peacefully, curled on her side. As she curled against him, without waking, he slipped his arm around her and lay for a moment, just listening to her soft breathing.

He wondered what she thought and wondered if he had the guts to ask her. He gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. Watching as a smile spread across her face, he made up his mind to ask her what she thought, in the morning.


	12. Lucky

"_**I'm on a roll,**_

_**I'm on a roll this time.**_

_**I feel my luck could change." - Radiohead**_

"Remind me again why we thought going out tonight was a good idea?" Sarah laughed, as they walked through the cold drizzle.

"Because you wanted ice cream," Mac said, feeling the damp chill through his jacket. "And decided we had to walk 9 blocks to get it."

"It's the only place I know of that's still open this late," she said.

"We passed four places..."

Sarah stopped walking. "Do you hear that?"

"The only thing I hear is the rain falling," he replied, not wanting to slow down.

"No, listen," she said, walking around a trash can, "It sounds like something whimpering…"

Mac cautiously approached the can. As he did, he noticed that the paper bag on the top of the can was moving. "Something's in that bag."

"Open it," Sarah said, studying the bag.

"What if it's a rabid raccoon or something?"

"You're a Marine, remember? No fear and all that crap?" Sarah dismissed. "Just open it."

Rolling his eyes, Mac opened the top of the paper shopping bag and looked in.

"Well? What is it?"

He reached in and produced a tiny black and white puppy. "Looks like someone didn't want him, so they just dumped him."

"Look at him," Sarah began, taking the puppy from him and cuddling it to her chest. "He's freezing."

"Sarah…" he warned.

"What? We can't leave him here," she simply said. "If he doesn't freeze to death, he'll starve."

"A puppy is a lot of responsibility."

"I raised two kids, Mac. I think I can handle it. Come on, look at him," she smiled, studying the tiny dog. "He's just a baby."

"He's probably got fleas."

"I don't see any fleas," she dismissed, as the puppy burrowed into her scarf.

"What if he's got worms?"

"There's medicine for that."

"You want to take some strange animal into the apartment?"

She gave him a devilish smile, "I brought you home."

"Very funny."

"We'll take him to the vet and get him checked out."

"It's Saturday night…" he warned, but Julie would not be deterred.

"I'll just call my next door neighbor. She's got a great 24 hour vet. We'll take him to get checked out and if he's healthy…"

"We'll call the animal rescue group…"

"We'll bring him home," she decided. "Somebody probably bought him as a Christmas present and then realized what it's like to have a dog."

"You do realize what it's like to have a dog, don't you?"

"Mac, my family had multiple dogs so I grew up with them. They're not that hard."

"We had a dog when I was a kid," he said, softening as he watched the shivering creature in Sarah's arms. "He was pretty easy to take care of."

"Then, don't you think it's time you had another?" she smiled, then pulled out her cell phone. "I'm calling my neighbor to get her vet's number."

XXXXX

As the puppy slept peacefully on his lap, Mac watched as Sarah placed a blanket at the bottom of the way-too-big dog cage. Two hours and five hundred dollars after they'd found the dog, he'd been flea dipped, given shots, and pronounced with a clean bill of health. He also had a new cage, some toys, a studded collar, and gourmet dog food. What he didn't have was a name or a license. The license would have to wait until Monday, but the name, well; he needed a name as soon as possible.

"We should name him, you know," he began.

"I was thinking of Oscar," she said, placing the water bowl in the cage.

He raised a brow, "Oscar?"

"Yeah, as in Oscar the Grouch, he lived in a trash can."

"No," he shook his head. "Not Oscar. I was thinking more of Lucky."

"Lucky? As in, he's lucky we saved his life?"

"Yeah…" he shrugged. "That was our dog's name when I was a kid."

"If you want to name him Lucky, we'll name him Lucky."

"If you don't like it," he demurred.

"This is your dog too," she smiled at him. "You should get to name him."

"Lucky it is," he nodded.

XXXXX

Rolling over and finding herself alone in the bed, Sarah opened her eyes. Gazing at the led read out of the alarm clock, she discovered it was 3:30 am.

In the months that she'd been with Mac, she'd frequently wake in the middle of the night to find herself alone. Sleep was not something that came easy to him and many nights, she'd find him out in the living room, reading or watching an old movie on television. The first few nights she'd tried to coax him back to bed, but try as he might, he lay awake. Now, she knew to let him go, it wasn't personal, it was just his way.

Tossing off the covers, she sat up and listened for the sound of the television. She could hear talking, but couldn't discern what they were saying. As she padded across the bedroom floor towards the doorway, she noticed that Lucky's cage was empty.

With a smile, she made her way into the living room to find Mac, lying on the sofa, watching an old black and white movie, with Lucky, curled up in a ball on his chest. He pulled his eyes from the television and looked up at her.

"I woke up and you both were gone," she said. "Is Lucky an insomniac too?"

"He was crying and scratching at the cage," he said, speaking quietly so as not to wake the puppy. "I let him out and he ran into the kitchen and went on the paper that we laid down."

"He's paper trained," she mused, sitting on the edge of the sofa and gently ruffling the puppy's fur. "What a smart puppy."

"Yeah," he shrugged. "Guess he's not too bad."

"You love him and you know it," she teased, kissing Mac.

"You, I love," he said, returning the kiss, "Him? He's growing on me."

"I have an idea," she purred, "Let's put him back in his cage…then we can go to bed and you can grow on me."

Mac laughed, causing the dog to stir. "Now you've gone and woke him up."

"He'll go back to sleep…come on." She lifted the puppy and held him in her arms. "Let's go to bed, Detective Taylor."

XXXXX

"Mac," Danny Messer said, poking his head into Mac's office. "Are you ready to head down to talk to the Chief of Detectives?"

"Do I have a choice?" Mac dryly asked, standing and slipping on his suit jacket. As he walked to the door, he put his hand into his pocket. "Oh, shit…"

"What's wrong?"

Mac pulled the dog's leash out of his pocket, "I shoved Lucky's leash into my pocket this morning…"

"Lucky?" Danny asked, "Who's Lucky?"

"Sarah and I found a puppy Saturday night," he explained. "Someone put him in a trash can."

"Who the hell does stuff like that?"

"I don't know. But he's got a good home now," Mac explained. "$500 and a visit to the 24 hour vet and we now have a dog."

Danny gave him a knowing smile, "So, you're dog parents…"

"We own a dog," he repeated.

"Did you get it a license?"

"Filled out the application yesterday. Sarah's dropping it off at lunch, why?"

"Whose name is listed as the owner?"

"She put both of our names," Mac replied with a shrug.

"So, you are dog parents now," Danny went on, eyes twinkling. "Does she refer to you as daddy?"

"No," he laughed. "That's not Sarah."

"Or so you think, watch Mac…she'll do it. Women get all weird with pets…this is a big commitment."

"Danny, it's a dog…"

"Mac, I'm tellin' ya, this is the start of something more," Messer said, getting into the elevator.

Mac watched the younger detective as he pushed the button for the lobby. What was it with people and their theories about his relationship with Sarah? First his mother, now Danny – of course, if pressed, he would admit that they were both right. He did want "something more" with Sarah, he just wasn't sure what that "something more" should be.


	13. Pictures Of You

"_**I've been looking so long at these pictures of you**_

_**That I almost believe that they're real**_

_**I've been living so long with my pictures of you**_

_**That I almost believe that the pictures are all I can feel" – The Cure**_

He supposed that moving in to Sarah's apartment was a practical idea. After all, his lease was up and he hadn't really spent that much time in his apartment any way.

They'd been laying in bed on a snowy Sunday morning in January when the subject of cohabitation came up. After taking Lucky out, he'd slipped back under the covers with her for a rare bit of morning relaxation.

"I like having you here in the morning," she smiled, snuggling in his arms. "That way I can stay in my nice warm bed and you can take Lucky out."

"Is that the only reason you like having me here?" he laughed, as Lucky hopped up onto the bed and settled at his feet.

"No, but it's on the top of the list. Tell me you don't like waking up here…"

"I never said that," he counted. With a sloe smile, he ran his hand along the curve of her waist and said, "Sleeping here does have its perks."

"Which is why you do it so damn much, huh?"

"It's on the top of the list," he teased, watching as her expression grew thoughtful. "What?"

"Isn't your lease up at the end of February?"

"It is, why?"

"Well, it really doesn't make sense to be paying rent on two apartments when we really only use one."

He raised a brow, "You make a good point. I didn't know you wanted to move out of this place."

"I don't," she explained, "Not really anyway. I was thinking that maybe you could move in here."

He processed the thought. She did have a point. He was paying rent for an apartment he barely used and her place felt more like home to him. But was their relationship to that point yet? His mother certainly thought so, so did Stella. Apparently, Sarah agreed with them.

"You don't have to decide now," she softly said, "Think about it a bit. You've got til the end of the month to give your 30 day notice."

XXXXX

It took him all of 24 hours to decide to move in with her. It took another two weeks to give his land lord notice and to start moving his belongings into Sarah's apartment.

On the last Saturday of February, Danny and Jason came down and, along with Stella, helped him move into Sarah's apartment. After setting the last box in Madyson's old bedroom, Mac walked out to find Sarah and Stella standing in front of Sarah's wall of photos.

"I suppose," Sarah said, looking at the pictures, "I need to go through these and box some up."

"Yeah, Mom," Danny said, handing her a bottle of beer. "You really don't want to force Mac to have to look at all of those old pictures every day."

"True," she shrugged.

"I don't know," Stella said, smiling at the photos, "I think it's great that you have your family history up on the wall."

"Yeah," Danny went on, studying the pictures, "But its Mom's family history. She's starting something new now…"

Mac studied Sarah's face during this conversation. Despite the smile she wore, there was conflict in her eyes. He knew what those pictures meant to her, especially the ones of Danny Sr and Madyson. He couldn't ask her to take them down.

"I don't know, Danny," he said, walking over and slipping an arm around Sarah's shoulders. "I kinda like it the way it is."

Sarah smiled at him, but Danny would not be deterred.

"You can handle pictures of some other guy on your wall?"

"It's not some other guy," Mac reasoned, "Your father was a big part of your mother's life. I wouldn't dream of asking her to take those pictures down."

"We'll see," she thoughtfully said, then forced on a smile, "I don't know about you guys, but I'm ready for some dinner. Jason, why don't you grab the take out menus and we'll order some dinner?"

"You got it, Mrs. O'Neill," Jason said, "Come on Danny, let's go sort through the menu drawer."

After the two of them walked into the kitchen, Stella excused herself to the bathroom, leaving Mac and Sarah alone. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her softly. "I meant what I said."

"What you said about what?" she asked, slipping her arms around him.

"Don't take down the pictures," he seriously said. "Seeing you with Dan doesn't bother me at all, Sarah."

"You do know that I love you, don't you?" she asked with a smile.

"I love you too," he replied, with a kiss.

"Ooops, I'm interrupting something…" Stella laughed, causing them to step apart.

"You're fine," Sarah dismissed, "Come on, let's go look at the menus, if we leave it up to those two we'll be eating sushi."

XXXXX

Mac opened the apartment door, surprised to find the living room empty. When he'd left to drive Stella home over an hour ago, Sarah, Danny, and Jason were sitting on the sofa making plans for Easter weekend. As he closed the door, Lucky bounded into the living room.

"Hey there Boy," he laughed, as the dog skidded to a stop in front of him. He bent and ruffled the fur at Lucky's neck. "Where'd everybody go?"

It was then he saw the note on the dining room table. In Sarah's neat script, it read, "Ran out with the boys to pick up ice cream. Back in a few. Love, Sarah."

As he took off his jacket and walked back to the foyer to hang it on the coat tree, he looked around the apartment. The room looked different, he decided, different, yet the same. Sarah's things were still there, but now, so were some of his. Now, the wall unit, the overstuffed sofa where they'd first made love, and the oriental rug that he knew hid a large purple spot where Madyson had dropped her nail polish, were joined by his floor lamp, his black leather ottoman that Sarah fell in love with in his old living room, and his television.

Despite the fact that he'd had those pieces in his apartment for years, they seemed new and different here in Sarah's living room. He supposed in time that they would blend in, but for now, they stuck out. With a shrug, he hung his jacket and made his way towards the kitchen.

At least, he thought, he'd talked her out of taking down her pictures. He'd told her the truth when he said they didn't bother him, it was a part of her history, and he'd grown familiar with each framed shot. As he passed the wall, the corner of his eye picked up something out of place.

Curious, he stopped and looked at the wall. She'd moved things around, he decided, his eyes focusing on the shape and lay out of the frames. Stepping closer, he studied the pictures and a broad smile spread on his features.

There, next to the picture of Sarah and Dan's wedding day was the framed picture of Mac and Claire on their wedding day. And she didn't stop there, Sarah must have gone through the box of old photos he'd slipped into Madyson's room, because framed shots of Mac, Claire, and even Mac's parents were slipped into the mix of Sarah's photos.

Hearing the door open, he turned around just as they all walked in. Sarah's smile grew nervous as she realized that he'd seen her handiwork.

"I hope you don't mind…" she began.

"I don't mind," he smiled, taking her into his arms.

"That way, it's our history," she smiled. "Not just mine."

"Are you sure you don't mind?"

She shook her head, "I don't mind at all."

As he leaned in to kiss her, a flash caught their attention. Looking for its source, they found Danny holding his camera.

"Now you've got one of the two of you to add to the wall," he smiled.

And twenty minutes later, after Danny had printed out the picture and placed it in a frame, they did just that.


End file.
